


Inside Out

by LostGirl



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, M/M, Magic!Fail, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-12
Updated: 2007-10-13
Packaged: 2018-06-01 21:39:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6537256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostGirl/pseuds/LostGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xander discovers a part of himself he never knew existed, or maybe several, and that's just the start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Inside Out  
> Author: [](http://lostgirlslair.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://lostgirlslair.livejournal.com/)**lostgirlslair**  
>  Fandom: BtVS  
> Pairing: Giles/Xander  
> Rating: R (FRM)  
> Summary: Xander discovers a part of himself he never knew existed.  
> Disclaimer: All things BTVS belong to Joss and various corporate entities.  
> Setting: Set after 'Family', Season 5 BtVS. AU.
> 
> Big, huge thanks to [](http://ngaio.livejournal.com/profile)[**ngaio**](http://ngaio.livejournal.com/) , and [](http://mrtwstedwhsprs.livejournal.com/profile)[**mrtwstedwhsprs**](http://mrtwstedwhsprs.livejournal.com/) (The Fiance) and to [](http://katekat1010.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://katekat1010.livejournal.com/)**katekat1010** for helping me get this story back on track, even if it was ages ago. *G*
> 
> This is for [](http://soft-princess.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://soft-princess.livejournal.com/)**soft_princess** 's birthday! Almost three and a half years ago, she gave me a prompt, and though I did write a little ficlet to go with that prompt, this sprang up from it and I've been working on it ever since. It only makes sense that it should be her birthday fic. It's, er, quite long, so I'm posting it in parts, but it will all be finished by about this time tomorrow. I hope you like it, sweetie! And I hope your birthday (tomorrow) rocks! ::squishes::

**\--Giles--**

Even beyond his knowing what waited in the darkness, Giles didn't enjoy wandering Sunnydale at night. During the day it presented the "perfect" picture of a small Californian town, bustling with people, bright and blue-skied, but at night it was . . . deserted for the most part. Oh, there were people around the Bronze and a few other spots, but on the whole Giles found himself thinking of it as dead and forlorn. Most of the shops had closed, their lighting meager, and a deep quiet muffled large sections of the town. In places, the silence was so deep that one's own breathing seemed loud.

Giles found himself hurrying toward home. Though not unused to hurrying on the Hellmouth, this was different. He felt jittery and somehow off, all of which he blamed on his worry. He and the others had been searching all night and still there was no sign of Xander. Under normal circumstances, Giles might have only been mildly worried. Xander had lived in Sunnydale all his life, after all, but he had a knack for finding trouble. In his current emotional state . . . Giles had never seen Xander so upset and it only quickened his pace.

Xander had been so disturbed that he'd run from the Magic Box. As the night had worn on and there had been no sign of him, Giles' worry had only grown. He was heading home only because no one could think of anywhere else to look. It had been a circle of unhappy faces and worried eyes that Giles had left at the shop. They'd all exchanged reassurances. They'd call if he showed up, if he rang. If Xander was so much as glimpsed from a distance, Giles expected to be woken by an impatiently ringing phone.

Giles had his keys out before he went into the courtyard. It was starting to rain, not too unusual for the time of year. Giles might have enjoyed a break in clear skies, but all he wanted just then was to get inside, get something to drink, and try to sleep. Xander, he hoped, would show up soon, or be at home when Anya got there.

He stopped dead when he saw Xander standing in the courtyard. Xander's jaw was tight, his eyes haunted, and rain dripped from his sodden hair and clothes, though he didn't seem aware of it.

"Giles," his voice was harsh, as if he'd been crying--or screaming as his eyes showed no sign of tears.

"Xander. God, we were worried about you." Giles took one step forward, unable to stop himself, but went no further. There was something skittish in Xander's stance, something tense that screamed he was too jumpy to be approached.

"I walked. Couldn't stay there." Xander's voice was thick and hoarse, his movements jerky. "I can't be around them. I shouldn't be here."

"What?" Giles shook his head, taking another step toward the young man, pulled forward by the pain so clear on Xander's face. Fear rolled from him and it seemed to spike as Giles stepped nearer, so he stopped, his hand freezing midway in the air between them.

"You know what I mean," Xander croaked out. "I-I’m a demon, some kind of . . ." Xander shook his head, swallowing hard.

"Xander, not all demons--"

"We _kill_ them, Giles! I know about demons. They wreck lives! They murder friends! Or just steal their bodies and their memories and then. . ." Xander was shaking. Cold rain trickled under Giles' collar, and Xander was already soaked through.

He could see it, the terror Xander tried to hide behind anger. Xander's eyes prickled with tears, but he refused to let them fall. Giles stepped closer, taking Xander by the shoulders. "Xander . . . you're no different than you were before. You haven't changed at all."

Some of the tension eased. Giles could feel Xander's muscle relax under his hands, but his stance was still tense, as if poised to run. Afraid of himself.

"But . . ." Xander didn't seem to be able to finish his thought and for a long moment they simply stood that way. "I could change, now. There's . . . I mean, there's this whole new chance that I'll . . . wake up one day and think, 'wow, entrails sound yummy'. I mean, it could happen, right?" Xander's breathing had sped up, his eyes widening.

"That's extremely unlikely--" Xander whimpered and Giles regretted his instinct to be honest, even in a situation like this.

His voice, when he spoke, was low and rougher than he'd have expected. "We should go inside." Giles tired to sound calm, hoping it might prove contagious.

"No," Xander shook his head, his body tensing as if he would step away from Giles, though he never did. Instead he stood there, practically vibrating with anxiety. Giles had Xander's gaze for a long moment. The air seemed too dense to breathe. Looking at one another like this, through a veil of light rain, so close, with emotion so near the surface, Giles almost imagined he could feel Xander's gaze as he would the touch of fingertips. Then Xander looked down and broke the contact. "Okay."

Giles relaxed a little at Xander's capitulation. Once again rearranging his keys, Giles nodded toward the door. Aware of Xander following him, Giles made quick work of the lock and hastily stepped inside. Xander entered without a word, closing the door behind them, and Giles took both of their coats to hang up.

"I should . . . I don't know." Xander seems to slump in on himself. No longer on the verge of running, his shoulders hunched up nearly to his ears. "Giles . . . What am I?" He looked up with large, dark eyes, as if it was a foregone conclusion that Giles would have the answers.

"You're the same man you always were," Giles said. "This isn't going to change that."

"Promise me I won't hurt them." Xander's voice was so small. "Or you. Or anyone else."

"I can't," Giles said sadly. Xander tensed and Giles reached out, laying his hands on Xander's shoulder, half worried that Xander might leave, might run out into the rain again. "Humans hurt each other all the time. We're not the most sensitive creatures, but you won't hurt them because of your . . . heritage. You're no different now. You only know more about yourself."

Silence lay between them for long moments, broken only by the growl of thunder overhead and the sound of rain against the windows, but the storm was passing. Xander nodded, but numbly, his head bobbing while his eyes didn't move at all. Then his gaze flicked up, meeting his fully. There was a shock of awareness that spread through Giles' body like lightning over water. Even his toes tingled from it and he felt dizzy, light headed, and strange.

Xander looked as if he'd felt it, too. Giles opened his mouth to say something, anything, because now the air between them was thick and heavy and Giles was uncomfortably aware of Xander's slightly parted lips. Then Xander leaned in. Giles froze. He wasn't entirely sure what he expected, but it wasn't Xander's arms wrapping around him, Xander's head on his shoulder. More over, he'd never expected it to feel so _right_.

"Giles?"

"Hmm?" Giles felt as if saying more--or moving, or breathing--would shatter the moment apart.

"I . . . would you . . ."

"Would I . . .?" Giles wished he could see Xander's face.

"I . . . would you kiss me?"

Giles' heart jumped into his throat, his stomach doing a jig. Just how in the name of all that was holy was he supposed to answer that? The thought of feeling Xander's soft lips against his own, of finally licking along them, between them, and tasting Xander . . . But Xander was vulnerable now. He'd be taking advantage, but if he said no what would Xander think? That Giles thought him--he'd hesitated too long.

"I'm sorry," Xander rushed, pulling away from their embrace. "Oh, God, I--I'm sorry." Xander wouldn't look at him.

Giles made his decision. With a gentle hand he turned Xander's face toward him and kissed him. Xander groaned, his mouth opening to Giles' searching tongue. Giles swept inside, memorizing the feel of it in case he never had the chance to taste Xander again. Xander's hands clenched rhythmically against Giles' back as their tongues duelled, lips sliding wetly against one another, bodies pressed tight.

When Giles pulled away they were both panting. Xander laid his head against Giles' shoulder, lips turned inward this time, exhaling across the sensitive skin in a way that made Giles shudder.

"You're cold," Xander mistook the reaction, pulling away. He took a step back, putting a little distance between the two of them, and glanced down at himself. "And I'm kinda soaked."

"That's what will happen, when one goes wandering out in the rain," Giles said, trying desperately to collect the scattered pieces of his dignity. He sounded gruffer than he'd meant to, partly because the lump in his throat made him hoarse.

"It could have been worse," Xander said. He was obviously trying for a joking tone, though it fell flat. "Even vampires won't be out in that weather."

Giles only snorted. The monsters always had to eat, regardless of weather, but he still felt that Xander's mental state was precarious and he didn't want to tip it the wrong way.

_Which is why you kissed him. Oh, yes, that makes perfect sense. Take advantage of said mental state to get a leg over. Good show, Rupert._ Giles ignored the voice, or tried to, though it was growing more insistent now.

"Let me see if I have anything you can wear," he muttered, taking the stairs two at a time to put some more distance between himself and Xander. He knew it was wrong, knew he shouldn't have kissed Xander. Anya alone was reason enough, not even considering Xander's emotional condition. It was just that . . . he'd wanted to touch those lips for so long and he hadn't been sure what to do to take that kicked puppy look from Xander's eyes.

Giles realized he was standing there staring into the second drawer of his dresser and had been for a few minutes now. Shaking his head, he began digging through to find clothing for both of them.

"You should call the others while I find clothes," he called down.

"Can't that wait just a little longer?" Xander spoke from the top of the stairs and Giles turned to find Xander pulling his soaking shirt over his head, revealing a chest that had filled out since his time on the swim team, the last time Giles had seen it. Not that he'd been looking then.

_Oh, yes, Rupert; lying to yourself is so very healthy._ Giles went still, eyes fixing on the rivulets of water running from Xander's hair down his chest. He watched, fascinated, tracking the paths of one such drop as it slid over Xander's hardened nipple. His breathing picked up and Giles found himself licking his lips.

Xander flicked the button on his jeans loose, pushing at the wet material without undoing the zipper. The baggy denim clung in ways it wouldn't have otherwise, outlining hipbones and strong thighs. Giles swallowed hard, hearing his heart pounding in his ears.

"Xander," the young man looked to him, expression unreadable. "Here." He tossed a pair of sweatpants onto the bed and quickly turned back to the dresser, desperately berating himself for his erection.

"I didn't think we'd be getting dressed again so soon," Giles heard Xander say and he looked over to find Xander still standing there, pulling on the sweatpants, his eyes nervous and his movements jerky. "Please, Giles . . . I . . ." He looked at a loss as to what to do and Giles forced himself to look away.

"Xander . . . I shouldn't have kissed you, should never have--" He turned to Xander, trying to find the words to finish. And then Xander was there, Xander's lips pressing against Giles' own, Xander's body pressing awkwardly against him, Xander's hands on his chest.

Giles groaned, telling himself he had to back away, had to end this and then Xander's tongue pressed tentatively to his lips and Giles lost his mind. His hands went around Xander's waist, his lips parting for that hesitant exploration. He pulled Xander against him, his hands splayed over Xander's back, cursing himself for not being able to stop this, not being about to let go.

Xander pulled away slightly, their lips still barely touching. "Giles," Xander breathed against his lips, pulling a groan from him.

"Xander," he said and even he could hear the warning and wanting battling in his frustrated whisper.

Xander's hands slipped under his wet shirt, half-hard cock brushing Giles' hip. "Just . . . please, Giles . . . Rupert, please." It was his given name that undid him. He'd never heard it on Xander's lips that way, had heard it not nearly often enough over the last years. He was always 'Giles,' always separate. That had been well enough when the--when Buffy and the others were in high school, but now--he was a friend now, wasn't he? The name was just one more way of holding everything at bay, as if this were just a stop over before he continued on with his real life.

Lips seeking out lips, tongues dueling as Giles gripped the back of Xander's head, fingers tangling in his hair. Xander's hands slid into the back waistband of his trousers, warm hands against clammy skin. Giles melted into the kiss, welcoming Xander's tongue into his mouth and seeking out every dip and crevice of Xander's in return.

Giles groaned when Xander thrust his hips forward, pressing their swollen cocks together, groaned again when Xander pulled away, his hands fumbling as he pulled at Giles' shirt buttons. He walked Xander a step closer to the bed. Xander pressed against him, the length of his young, half-naked body rubbing hard against Giles' own, drawing a moan from both of them. Then Xander's knees hit the bed and he went sprawling, Giles standing over him, taking in the lines and planes displayed before him.

"You're beautiful."

"And cold," Xander added as a blush rose in his cheeks and he looked away.

_God, he's young._ Giles shook his head, unsure whether it was because of the thought or an attempt to clear the thought away.

"Xander, I . . . can't do this." The smile fled Xander's face, his jaw clenching as he turned his eyes away from Giles.

"Why?" The question was soft, almost a whisper. "You . . . seemed to want me. You . . . kissed me, and . . . Why? Don't think about it. It's the best option. That's what I'm doing, just, yeah, kinda jump in and--"

"Anya," Giles sighed, sitting down on the bed, though he didn't turn away from Xander. He wanted to soak up and memorized every inch of that body, every dip and curve and line of muscle exposed to his eyes. No, what he wanted was to run his hands and tongue over it, to taste and tease until Xander squirmed and begged . . .

Xander didn't want him. He wanted something to remind him that he was still alive, still felt. If he could feel, if he could be wanted, then the demon part of him didn't matter. At least, that was Giles' guess. Had it been Anya who had found him, well . . . if it had been Anya things would have been very different indeed and Xander would be getting what he needed right now. Giles wasn't Anya, though; both he and Xander would hate themselves if they let this continue. Right now, yes, Xander wanted what he could give, but Xander loved Anya. That truth, however painful, was just the thing Giles needed to bring him to his senses.

"Oh, God," Xander murmured, rolling off the bed so quickly that Giles had to duck to avoid Xander's flying feet.

"You can't tell me you forgot about her," Giles blinked, watching as Xander pulled on the sweatshirt Giles had tossed him earlier.

"Um, no. I think I just heard Buffy. Outside." There was a knock on the door and Giles catapulted up, reaching for the sweats he'd grabbed for himself and quickly changing out of his wet clothes. He heard the door open downstairs.

"I'm not here," Xander whispered, eyes frantic and pleading.

"Giles?" Buffy's voice rang in the small flat.

"Xander, you can't do that. They're worried sick!" Giles turned, heading downstairs with an expression as blank as he could make it. "We're here."

"We?" Anya was the first to ask, her eyes lighting up in a way that made Giles want to kick himself in a very sensitive area. Repeatedly. The others were all arrayed about his living room, Buffy, Riley, Willow, and Tara, the girls all wearing hopeful expressions.

"Yes," Giles nodded, sighing. "Xander's upstairs, changing out of his wet clothes. I was just coming down to call you."

Anya ran up the stairs without a further look to any of them.

"How is he?" Willow asked, coming to stand close to keep their conversation private from the two in the loft. They were probably embracing now, lost in each other. Giles swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and focused enough to answer Willow's question.

"He's . . . he could be better. I-I'm not sure now. He was very distraught earlier, but I think that, perhaps, he's doing a little better. He'll need time and-and support."

"Oh, of course," Willow nodded, looking to Buffy and Tara, who nodded as well.

"Umm," Xander came down the stairs, his arm around the waist of a smiling Anya. "Sorry about the freak out guys. I just, uh, I was surprised."

Xander wouldn't look at him. Giles couldn't really blame him for that, he supposed. Polishing his glasses so he wouldn't have to see, Giles chastised himself for the way his heart jumped into his throat at the sight of the two so close together.

"No, no," Willow rushed to assure her friend, pulling him into a hug. "It's okay. We were just worried is all, with you running out all unknown demon-y and all the nasties on the street and--"

"Uh, yeah, Will, I get it," Xander's smile was clearly false, but the others, like Giles, let that slide.

"It's just a good thing Giles found you in the cemetery," Anya put in, flashing a grateful smile Giles' way.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, of course." And suddenly Giles just needed them out, all of them. He needed quiet and sleep and at least one very large measure of Scotch. "Why don't we call it a . . . well, morning now, and get some sleep. They'll be plenty of time for all of this tomorrow. I'm sure Xander could use some rest as well." His eyes met Xander's over Willow's head.

"Yeah," Xander agreed, his gaze never leaving Giles' while the rest of the room seemed oblivious. "Rest." Xander sounded morose, but no one commented.

Giles ushered them out with a false smile that they were, thankfully, too busy fussing over Xander to notice. Xander met his eyes once or twice more on the short walk out the door, but said nothing. Giles sighed, shutting the door and locking it before heading to the kitchen. He stared at the bottle for a long time, glass in hand, mind roaming over memories of the night, before pouring himself a measure and then retreating to his armchair.

There were too many things to think about for him to have a peaceful moment. He knew he'd wind up thinking about Xander, but avoided it as long as his exhausted mind would allow. Instead he thought about Tara's family, about the birthday party Xander's absence had postponed, about Anya's worry for Xander's safety, which of course led to thoughts of Xander.

_What was I thinking?_ Dizziness washed over him for a heartbeat. Giles blinked and shook his head, glancing into his glass and finding it empty already. Not a good sign, but one he was used to by now.

\-----

Someone was pounding on the door. Giles started awake in his chair, shaking his head in a pointless attempt to clear the fog of sleep. In fumbling for his glasses he knocked over his empty tumbler but ignored it as he stumbled to the door.

"What's wrong?" The words flew from his lips even as he yanked the door open.

Xander stood outside, his hands shoved into his pockets, jaw clenched tight. When he spoke--which took a few moments--he addressed the threshold. "I . . . We need to talk."

Giles didn't bother to deny it, instead stepping aside to allow Xander entrance. Xander didn't so much as glance at him, slumping in and taking a seat on the sofa without a further word. He was dressed, still, in the sweats he'd borrowed and his hair looked rumpled.

"I'm sorry," Giles said immediately, wanting to cut this scene short and get to his empty bed. His head hurt, his throat was dry, and the last thing he wanted to do was listen to Xander tell him they'd made a mistake.

"Me too," Xander muttered, his eyes roving the floor, apparently taking in the tipped tumbler. Giles picked the glass up, setting it on the coffee table.

"Then what else is there to say?" He wanted to add, 'please leave,' but couldn't bring himself to say it. Oh, he might have been more than capable just a day ago. He'd always done his best to hold Xander at arm's length, not that he'd always succeeded. At first it had been because Xander annoyed him, then because . . . he didn't, or at least not in the same way.

Xander looked up at that and Giles realized how tired he looked. _This is about the demon, you prat. He needs a friend._ Sighing, Giles plopped down onto the couch, next to Xander. "I can't tell you any more about your heritage until we find out what type it is. I can only repeat what I've already said and--"

"Yeah, I know," Xander interrupted. "I, um, I didn't really come to talk about that, but . . . I know. It, uh, I don't _feel_ different!" Xander stood, pacing around the furniture in small tight circles.

"Xander, you aren't any different. You've always been part demon and it isn't going to change who you are," Giles took a breath to say more, but once again, Xander cut him off.

"I hate to tell you this, 'cause I know you want to forget it, but it's not just the demon thing! I'm . . . I'm different. I'm not the same now, because . . . Crap! I kissed you!" Xander threw his hand up in the air, shaking his head. "It's not . . . It's just . . . Okay, yesterday, I was Xander. Good job, finally. Great girlfriend, finally. Nice apartment, finally. Now . . . who the hell am I? I'm . . . shit, I'm not human, I'm not . . . straight, I'm . . . confused. Everything just feels . . . wrong . . . because it's all . . . the same." On the last word, Xander threw himself back onto the couch, laying his head in his hands. "That doesn't make sense. Why doesn't that make sense?"

Giles tried to process it all, blinking rapidly as if that might clear his thoughts. "You're not . . . What do you mean?"

"I think I pretty much covered that," Xander sighed. "I don't know how to say it any other way. Why? Why does this happen now? Sure, yeah, I suppose there were hints . . . at-at both, but . . ."

"Xander," Giles cut off the babbling, "I don't . . . I'm not sure what you're trying to say. I understand you're upset about the demon, and . . . uh, the k-kiss, but--"

"No!" Xander turned to him, eyes angry. "You really don't get it? I'm-I'm not upset about the kiss, but I should be. The Xander I was yesterday would have been."

"I don't know what to say," Giles admitted on a sigh, deflating. He didn't even know where to begin to help with this. It certainly was not something covered at the academy. Who cared if the Slayer was gay as long as she killed things, preferably demons?

"When you, uh, figured out that you were--" Xander couldn't even look at him as he asked, instead examining his interlocked hands. "Uh, g-gay or--or whatever . . . uh, what-what did you do?"

"Well, uh," Giles took a deep breath, wondering how much he should tell. "I learned, uh . . . by doing," he said with a vague hand gesture meant to, in some unknown way, illuminate his point.

Xander was quick to take his meaning and blinked once or twice. "Was-was it, uh . . . did . . ." apparently at a loss for words, Xander began picking a loose piece of trim on Giles' coffee table. "How did you react, uh, af-afterwards?"

"Well," Giles let out a long sigh and then tossed caution to the bloody wind. If he were going to have this talk with Xander, he was going to at least be honest. "I turned to Ethan an--"

"Ethan? Ethan Rayne?" Xander leaned forward, now looking him in the face. "You and . . . whoa, that kinda . . ."

Giles didn't bother trying to figure out what 'that kinda' did. It didn’t matter and he was eager to get his confession out of the way. "Yes, quite. Anyway, I turned to Ethan and I . . . uh, screamed."

"Screamed?" Xander smiled at that, his expression disbelieving.

"Like the proverbial little girl," Giles snorted, shaking his head and relaxing back onto the sofa. He smiled at Xander's amusement, though the young man was trying hard not to laugh. "Go ahead, laugh. It is rather funny." Even Giles couldn't help but chuckle at the memory. "Neither of us had been, uh, in any frame of mind the night before and . . . uh, well, Ethan knew where his interests laid, but I . . . was very surprised to wake up to Ethan."

"What did he do?"

"Smirked at me," Giles said, suddenly lost in the memory. Ethan's smirk had been a thing of beauty in those days, filled with a confidence he had not felt, but just dared anyone to question. Shaking away from the memories, Giles was a bit startled to find that Xander had scooted closer. Xander's shoulder was against his wrist, but Giles said nothing, swallowing hard.

"And you two . . . were, uh, together?" Xander looked skeptical, but Giles didn't try to pry into his thoughts.

"Yes."

"How did you . . . deal with it?"

Giles shrugged, trying to remember if he'd ever been so bothered by his sexuality as Xander seemed to be. Yes, he'd screamed, but . . . once the surprise wore off, once he'd talked to Ethan and . . . Well, it had just seemed right, normal. He told Xander as much and the young looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"I'm sorry," he said, meaning it with everything in himself. "I wish I could be more helpful to you."

Xander shrugged, scooting a little closer, as if closing in on a skittish animal. Giles tried not to fidget or shift around, even as he sought the words he needed. If Xander thought something could happen between them, now, like this, Giles needed to set him straight, and quickly. If he'd been reluctant to touch Xander earlier, he was dead set against it now. Xander was far too confused, far too vulnerable, and far, far too close.

Xander laid his head on Giles' shoulder and Giles realized Xander was holding his breath, waiting for some reaction, tense enough to pull away at any sign he wasn't welcome.

_Damn._

"Xander?" Giles kept his voice soft, hopefully soothing. He didn't want it to seem as if he were rejecting the closeness offered, but . . .

"Hmm?" Xander's voice was a little higher than usual, but sleepy as well. Glancing at the clock, he realized it was quite late in the morning and he had to wonder if Xander had got any sleep at all.

"Go to sleep," he said softly, laying a hand on Xander's arm even as he berated his own selfishness. Giles' brain, the part that was reasonable and rational and only slightly influenced by the reactions of his other organs, began to throw out other options. _Tell him to go home. Tell him to go up and sleep in your bed. Help him make up the couch. God, don't do this._

"Mmm," was the only response, but it made Giles smile. Especially when Xander curled closer, sure of his welcome. It wasn't long before he was snoring softly into Giles' shoulder and Giles could only take that as an answer to his curiosity. No, Xander hadn't slept.

He waited until Xander was firmly asleep before slipping out of his hold. Tucking a pillow under Xander's head, he draped a blanket over him and removed Xander's shoes and socks before going to check on a few things. He couldn't help Xander with this, not as much as he wanted too, but he thought he might know some people who could, if Xander were willing to accept their help.

\-----

Giles was just flipping the last of the pancakes when Xander woke. He knew right away because of the crash from the living room. Rushing in, he found Xander on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, tangled in the blanket. Looking around blearily, Xander seemed to realize where he was when his gaze landed on Giles. Not that he looked any less confused.

"I slept on your couch." He didn't sound particularly sure of that and Giles had to duck his head to hide a smile.

"Yes, you did."

"Where did you sleep?"

"I slept before you arrived," Giles answered, hedging a little. It was true that he hadn't gone back to sleep, but he didn't want to admit to the amount of time he'd just sat on the sofa, holding Xander while he slept. Especially since he was fairly certain Xander was asking whether they'd . . . slept together, in the literal sense, of course.

"Oh." Xander seemed to consider that for a moment before shrugging and trying to stand with the blanket still wrapped around his legs. He stumbled, but caught his balance. Once sure Xander wasn't going to fall through his coffee table, Giles went back to the kitchen, just in time to catch the pancakes before they burned.

He heard Xander stumble into the bathroom and so turned to set out breakfast, even though it was after lunchtime. He wasn't sure what Xander would want to drink, but it wasn't as if he had much to choose from. Orange juice, coffee, and tea. Since he doubted Xander would want tea, he put on a pot of coffee and poured a glass of juice.

"Hey," Xander said as he appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Good morning, er, well, no. Still, good afternoon simply doesn't sound the same. "

"Oh, shit!" Xander suddenly stood up straight, his eyes going wide. Certain the next word out of his mouth would be 'Anya,' Giles was quite surprised to hear him shout, "Work!" as he scrambled for his shoes.

"It's Sunday," Giles reminded, snorting. "But, uh, don't you think you should call Anya? She's sure to be worried."

Xander's goofy grin disappeared at the mention of Anya and he slumped onto a stool with a sigh. "Nah, we, uh, had a fight and she told me to find somewhere else to sleep."

"Nevertheless," Giles sighed, trying to hide his surprise and curiosity. What had the two of them fought over? He tried desperately to suppress a brief flare of satisfaction that it might have been about him.

_Oh, yes. I am a right bastard._ He handed the phone to Xander, taking his own seat and sliding a plate in front of Xander, who only then seemed to notice the meal.

"Wow. You, uh, you made me breakfast." He seemed slightly shocked by that.

"Would you have preferred I went out to get donuts?" Giles smiled a little. "I had considered it, but there's only so many jellies one can eat . . ."

"No! No, this is . . . really nice," Xander ducked his head, turning to use the phone, though not before Giles caught a shy smile on his face. Confusion wrinkling his forehead, Giles shrugged, turning to his meal and trying to ignore Xander's conversation, though that was impossible with the man sitting right next to him.

"Ahn? Yeah. At Giles'. Well, you, uh, you told me to get out. Oh . . . oh. Uh, right. I'm . . . I'm sorry. No, I . . . right. I didn't mean to worry you, I just . . . right. Okay. I'll . . . be home in a few hours. Well, I've . . . got some errands to run. Sure. Exactly. See ya, then." Giles didn't comment when Xander hung up the phone dejectedly.

"Apparently," Xander commented, pushing his eggs around on his plate. "When a woman says 'just go find somewhere else to sleep, Xander,' she means, 'Come back in an hour or so, with flowers, apologize, and if it's good I'll let you back in. Otherwise, sleep in the hallway against the door.'"

Giles sighed, trying to conjure a smile. "Perhaps it's only Anya who means that. She, uh, her concept of such things is, er, highly influenced by--"

"I know," Xander interrupted, perking up a bit. "I get that you're just trying to . . . defend her, I guess. Make sure I’m not mad, 'cause we both know she really doesn't get it, but I kinda want someone to snort with me and then pretend I didn't just get chewed out by my girlfriend for doing what she asked. Oh, and some changing of the subject would be good about now."

Looking at his food to hide a small smile, Giles nodded. "How're the eggs?" he asked, though his mind was wandering. Anya and Xander were clearly still together, but Xander . . . last night it had seemed that he'd thought he was gay-- _no,_ said the little voice in his head, _He said 'not straight'._ Giles deflated a little at the thought and hated himself for the way his mood swung down.

"Good," Xander mumbled around a mouthful of pancake, eating as if he hadn't seen food in days.

"You really should slow down before you choke," Giles chuckled, shaking his head.

Swallowing, Xander shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. "I just haven't eaten since lunch yesterday."

"What? You haven't eaten anything?" Giles gave Xander a glare that probably failed to be stern as Xander chose that moment to shovel a huge forkful of pancake into his mouth and Giles had to look away, torn between laughing at Xander's expression and shuddering over his table manners. Oddly, the laughter seemed to be winning.

"Well," he said after swallowing and gulping half the glass of juice, "There were some ho-hos and a ding-dong. Thanks for breakfast," Xander muttered, giving a shy smile that Giles had only seen once before, and that just a little while ago.

"Yes. Well. I was hardly going to make breakfast for myself and not--"

"Giles, don't even pretend this is something you were going to make for yourself. I know what you have for breakfast. I'm usually the one who picks it up. I don't think I've ever seen you eat an actual meal before noon. Fruit, yeah. Bananas." Xander paused then and Giles thought there was a hint of a blush on Xander's face. "But not like food food."

Flustered because his little ruse had, apparently, been quite transparent, Giles ducked his head and ignored the comment. That seemed to be fine with Xander, who'd turned shy again. Breakfast continued in an almost comfortable silence. Almost comfortable because Giles kept feeling the need to bring up the calls he'd made that morning, but couldn't seem to get the words through his lips. He wasn't sure how Xander would take his ideas, but he knew of no other way to help. Then again . . .

"You seem to be doing better this morning," he ventured.

"Uh, yeah, I-I guess." Xander shrugged, clearly avoiding Giles' gaze. "I mean . . . I still . . . Look, can I just ignore this for a while? I mean, I'm sure I'll have another meltdown when it hits me again, but I'd kinda like to put that off for . . . oh, like forever."

"Of course," Giles forced his voice to be soothing. He could tell all this was bothering Xander, even if he did claim to be ignoring it. Still, he was half certain what help he could offer would be met with instant refusal if he ventured the offer now. Still . . . "But if you feel the need to talk--"

"Oh, I think I talked enough already," Xander interrupted. "I'm kinda sorry about all that. It's just sometimes my mouth gets going and then it stops listening to my brain and I wind up . . . doing that."

"Xander, you were upset, and understandably so."

"Yeah, but . . . I shouldn't have asked you about . . . uh, Ethan. You really screamed?" It was nice to see a smile--a genuine, strong smile--on Xander's lips, even if was at his expense.

Giles shrugged, nodding slightly. "It wasn't one of my best moments," he remarked with a smile of his own.

"But I shouldn't have . . . uh, asked that."

"You can ask me anything. I want to help you through this and . . . I do have a suggestion, but I will understand completely if it doesn't appeal to you." Hating his uncertainty, Giles faltered to a stop, waiting for Xander's reaction.

"A suggestion? What kind of suggestion?" His tone clearly gave away his nervousness, but there was a gleam of interest in his eyes. Seeing that, Giles forged ahead.

"There's a group of demon-human hybrids who live in the mountains a few hours north of here. They would be able to help you, having gone through the very same thing, of course. Not only that, but they would be much better at discerning your ancestry and they would know what possible concerns there might be as you grow older--" He'd seen Xander's face fall almost immediately which was why he'd kept going, hoping something he said would strike a chord. Instead Xander looked away, sighing, Giles let his words die. "I'm sorry," he said, standing to clear away their plates. "I only thought it might be--"

"No," Xander interrupted, eyes whipping back to meet his. "It sounds good, really, it's just not what, uh, not something I would have thought of."

Confused by that, but unwilling to question further, and grateful that Xander seemed to have accepted his suggestion, Giles gave him a weak smile. He took the plates to the sink and began to clear away the rest of the breakfast debris. Xander stood to help, giving him a hesitant look before speaking.

"Uh, did-did you mean it when you said I could . . . uh, when you said I could ask you anything?" Xander quickly turned away, refusing to meet Giles' gaze.

Giles studied him for a moment before replying. "Yes, of course I meant it."

"Okay, uh," Xander turned his back, fidgeting with the plates. "What-what does it feel like?"

Giles stopped short, retaking his seat on the stool, examining Xander's back through the pass-through. His voice was gentle when he spoke, trying to reassure Xander, tell him the subject was permissible even as he flailed for a way to answer. "What does what feel like? You'll, uh, have to be more specific."

"Uh, with-with a guy. How different is it?"

"I'll assume you mean sex specifically, as . . . well, relationships are relationships and dependant upon the people in them. Uh, if-if you're . . . asking about a specific . . . er,"--God, Giles hated the way he was stuttering, but it came from trying to censor his words, find just the right ones when there likely weren't any 'right words'--"act . . . well, it's all . . . fairly similar really, depending a great deal on-on whether one would be topping or-or bottoming, uh--"

"Bottoming," Xander interrupted, causing Giles to raise an eyebrow, though he didn't ask how much thought Xander had put into the answer. It was the obvious question after all and Xander's preferences were absolutely none of his business.

"So, uh, then your question is what does it feel like to bottom?"

The back of Xander's head nodded. Pondering for a moment, Giles decided that the only way he was going to get through his conversation at all was to be straight forward and honest, blunt even.

"It's hard to describe, really, and so many things depend upon the individuals involved. It can hurt at first, at least the first few times, but . . . that . . . well, it fades if your partner has any idea what he's doing. Or maybe simply becomes unimportant, as odd as that sounds."

Giles paused, his mind slipping back and a small smile lifting his lips as he analyzed remembered sensations. He remembered especially how Ethan had filled him, how the burn had turned into something to cherish rather than hiss about. He remembered how Ethan had stroked him, talked to him, and how it had felt as if lightning were jumping along his nerve endings when Ethan's cock had stroked his prostate. Giles hadn't bottomed to Ethan all that often, actually, Ethan preferred him as a top, but there had been others . . .

Realizing Xander had turned, was watching him with a complex expression on his face, Giles cleared his throat and conjured a smile, meeting Xander's eyes. "It's very much worth it," he finally said, hoping that would, in some way, answer Xander's question. "Does that help?"

Xander nodded, his forehead furrowing a little as he ducked his head to hide a blush. "Yeah, it, uh, it kinda does." Shifting from foot to foot for a moment, Xander's sudden shyness forced Giles to hide a smile of his own. Xander shrugged. "I-I'd better go, but, uh, yeah. Let me know about those people, the ones like me. I'll . . . I'll drop by tonight."

With that, Xander was slipping on his shoes, grabbing his jacket. Giles barely had time to agree before he was out the door. Giles couldn't wipe away his smile as he did the dishes and straightened up, though he was unsure why exactly.


	2. Chapter 2

"Xander. Hello." Giles was confused by the almost terrified expression on Xander's face. He stepped back to allow him inside and felt his eyes widened when Anya stepped past Xander. "Oh, Anya! Uh, good evening to you as well."

His eyes flicked to Xander who shrugged and followed Anya inside.

"Xander told me about everything," Anya was saying as she hung up her jacket. Giles felt his stomach drop, eyes flicking anxiously to Xander, who wouldn't meet his gaze. "And I thought I should come, too. That's what a good girlfriend does." She nodded firmly, giving Giles a grin. "I should support Xander through this confusion and our relationship will be stronger because of it."

"Right," Giles found himself saying past the lump in his throat. He had no idea what to expect now and that made him edgy. "Uh, can-can I offer either of you a drink. Tea, perhaps?"

"Oh, I'm fine," Anya shook her head, still smiling.

"I'm good, too," Xander put in, finally meeting his gaze. "Uh, Anya wants to help with the decision, about the people you know? We, uh, talked about me being part demon and . . . well, since she was a demon and all . . ."

Giles, who had turned to lead them into the living room, closed his eyes for a moment and let out an inaudible sigh. He felt both relieved and guilty. Xander should tell Anya what had happened, of course. Still, he was dreading her knowing, ashamed of his own actions and how close he'd come to taking advantage of Xander's confusions. Though that was his first concern, he had to admit to a small thread of worry about Anya's past. Human she may now be, but that didn't mean she didn't still have connections. He was so tense and anxious that he almost felt dizzy.

"Yes, well, Anya makes perfect sense, of course." Forcing a smile, Giles sat in his armchair. He had to clench one of his fists to keep from looking away when Anya sat beside Xander and leaned against him. Memories of what that had felt like filled Giles' mind for a moment and he had to push them firmly away.

Swallowing hard, he turned his mind to the facts. "Well, this group is only a few hours away. I can give you directions. Uh, I'll need to call them, if you decide to go. So that they'll be expecting you."

"What--" Xander pressed his lips together, leaning forward and grasping his hands tight together. "What would it mean? What would I be doing there? Uh, just go and talk to them and they'll tell me what type of demon and . . . whether or not I'm going to go all scaly?"

"Most hybrid demons don't have scales," Anya added helpfully, reaching over to lay a hand atop both of Xander's in a comforting motion that wasn't anywhere near as awkward as it might have been a year ago. "It's not likely that you'll grow scales. Tails you see a lot more often, but you would have had that from the beginning. Unless . . ." She gave Xander an earnest look, "Is that how you got that scar above your butt?"

"What? No!" Xander shook his head at Anya, turning to meet Giles' rather surprised gaze. "I fell off my skateboard." Xander looked back to Anya, speaking almost frantically. "And that isn't bad! It's not tail-removal bad. It's-it's clumsy bad! If that!"

Anya rolled her eyes and looked back to Giles. "So, no tailed demons, apparently."

"Yes," Giles nodded, picking up a book he'd been looking through earlier, though it was more to distract himself from his amusement than because he'd found anything overly helpful. "Uh, I found a reference in here to how such things often go. It, uh, it seems that most demon-human hybrids don't ever show many signs. Uh, any-any demon close enough to breed with a human . . . well, most of the time, if you don't have it at birth . . ." Giles shrugged a little, handing the book to Xander.

"Right. So, there might not be any changes at all?" Xander looked so relieved that Giles couldn't help but to smile at him. Of course, that didn't mean he didn't need to stress that it was still possible. He didn't want to assure Xander nothing was going to happen only to have him grow spikes.

"Uh, it's most likely that there won't be--"

"See! I told you that you weren't going to start dripping slime!" Anya beamed at Xander, drawing a raised eyebrow from Giles. "He was worried about slime," she said matter-of-factly, patting Xander's knee. "I told him that it wasn't likely, but possible since Malvre demons do have slime and they're close enough, biologically, to have orgasms with a human." There she got a thoughtful look. "Of course, if it's Malvre, you'd probably be insane, so I think you can rule them out."

"Quite true." Giles looked to Xander. "It is unlikely you'll experience any sort of changes, but there is a possibility and these people can help you to know what to expect."

"All right," Xander said with a sigh, laying his head in his hands for a moment. "Okay. I can do this. We'll just go up tomorrow, meet the demon-ish people, and be back in time for dinner. Uh, right?" He gave Giles an unsure look, his hands tapping against his thighs. "We won't like . . . _be_ dinner?"

"No, no. They're . . . protective of their community, but on the whole, peaceful. Still," Giles shrugged, "It might take a bit more time than that. Uh, and given your work schedule, it's probably best if you take a weekend. The two of you could go up--"

"Wait," a slightly panicked look crossed Xander's face, "you're not coming with me? I . . . I thought you'd . . ." He looked to Anya, as if she might be able to say something, convince him.

Giles only shook his head. "Uh, no. I think . . . I think you and Anya should go alone. Xander, it's really not so intimidating as it may feel. These are good people, a good place. You'll be in no danger. I wouldn't have suggested it if I thought you would be." He met Xander's eyes, trying to convince him with just that look. It would be much better if he remained behind.

Of course, the hurt that passed through Xander's eyes made him wonder if he were doing it for Xander or if he were simply being selfish, not wanting to have to watch the way Anya stared at Xander, not wanting to see them touch and kiss, not wanting to hear about their sex life.

"It's okay," Anya put in, leaning against Xander. "We can do this. Giles will give us directions and we can go this weekend. Will we have to camp? Maybe I should buy camping things. You like camping, right Xander? Do you still have your old sleeping bag from spending Christmas outside?"

Xander straightened, though he still seemed to close in on himself, his eyes going shuttered. "Fine. Right. Yeah. I have it, somewhere. Uh, we'll find it later." He cast a look at Giles. "Um, Ahn, can I talk to Giles about guy stuff for a sec?"

Giles's gaze slipped to Anya, who smiled broadly. "Oh, be my guest," she said brightly, though she didn't move, instead looking from Xander to him and back again. It seemed, after a moment, she got the idea and frowned. "Oh. This would be the kind of guy stuff you don't want me to hear about? Damn." She sighed and then stood up, obviously disappointed. "I'll just go count the tiles in the bathroom."

She slumped away and Giles had to bite his lips to keep from chuckling. Of course, one look to Xander and the urge to laugh died quickly. Xander looked down to the floor and Giles found himself doing the same, both of them silent and the tension thick in the air between them. Giles shifted awkwardly, that act apparently breaking whatever dam that had held back Xander's words.

"You said you'd help me through this," Xander finally muttered, angry. "You said you would and I . . . Giles . . ." He looked up and the hurt in his eyes made Giles' chest constrict.

"I think it's better if just you and Anya go and . . . I think that, perhaps, it would be good for the two of you to . . . talk. Without my presence making things more difficult." Giles thought there was a flash of understanding in those deep brown eyes, but Xander's next words were discouraging.

"Anya's going to be there," he said softly. "You don't have to worry that I'll . . ." Xander looked away, apparently unable to finish the sentence.

"Xander . . ." Giles shook his head, wanting to explain, but the hurt on Xander's face, the way he was clenching his jaw, his posture tight . . . Giles couldn't bring himself to ignore the obvious distress, even if it meant spending a weekend watching Xander and Anya together. If Anya told him one more intimate detail, Giles was almost certain he'd growl with his frustration. Still, sighing, he gave in because he found he couldn't say 'no', not when Xander needed _him_. Not Buffy, not Willow, not . . . Anya. Not help in general, but him.

"Fine. I'll . . . I'll go," he said softly, though what he was thinking was more along the lines of, _This is going to be hell_.

Xander went to get Anya so that they could leave. Giles didn't move from his seat, at first, staring at the coffee table, more moody than he wanted to admit. He did his best to hide it, putting on a smile for Anya and Xander and quickly ushering them out the door. Xander shot him a confused look from over his shoulder, but Giles was simply . . . tired.

He shut the door and leaned against it, putting his forehead to the cool wood. Images ran through his mind, thoughts of Xander and Anya sitting on the couch together interspersed with he and Xander there just the night before, Xander's sleeping weight against his side.

'Hell' was perhaps an understatement.

He finally made his way to bed, after fussing around his flat, dusting what didn't need dusted, straightening what didn't need straightened. He was tired, exhausted, but he knew his mind wasn't going to let him sleep. He'd learned the signs of that, if nothing else, over the years.

Giles tossed and turned, his mind returning to Xander lying on his bed, sprawled out and half-naked, trying to hide his self-conscious thoughts by not reaching for the blanket to cover that long, beautiful body. Giles couldn't keep himself from remembering that Xander had been hard, his erection jutting against the sweatpants, visible and . . . so very hard. _For him._

_That's not the way it was and you know it,_ he growled at himself, turning over again and trying to ignore his rather insistent erection, one that both refused to go away and refused to allow him to find a comfortable position. _He needed comfort and I took advantage. He needed to feel wanted, that was all. It didn't matter, then, who did the wanting._

More memories flooded him, as if trying to dispute that argument. Xander pressed tight against him, their erections rubbing together through the worn material of their sweatpants. Xander's hands on his body, Xander's breath hot on his neck.

_Rupert_

Giles growled, turning over onto his back and letting his hand slip into his pajama bottoms, grasping his precum-slick cock and stripping it quickly. As if making this fast would keep him from thinking of Xander's body, pressed against him, laid out for him, hard and wanting.

_Uh, with-with a guy. How different is it?_

And Giles' traitorous mind was off and running, picturing the ways he could _show_ Xander. Xander on his knees and looking up at him. Giles gasped, swiping his thumb over the head of his prick. Xander on all fours, back bowing as Giles pushed into him. Giles slid his free hand down to cup his balls, rolling them between his fingers. Xander's face as Giles teasingly sucked at his cock. Giles' head tilted back, eyes closing to see it all better, betraying him, though he was too far gone to care. Xander's body, slick with sweat, arching up, hips bucking as Giles took him slowly.

Groaning, Giles came, hips jerking, pumping his cock into his own hand. As he reached for a handful of tissues and cleaned himself, Giles was haunted by visions of waking up to that shy smile, to deep brown eyes and a ridiculous grin, to Xander curled against his side.

Sleep did not come for far too long a time.

\-----

Giles slammed his hand down on his alarm clock, squinting at it to make sure he hadn't accidentally set it for an earlier than usual time. Sighing, he reached for his glasses and put them on. He couldn't actually force himself to get out of bed just yet, but he was heading in that direction.

He in no way dozed.

At least, that's what he told himself a half an hour later when a knocking at the door had him startling to his feet. Grabbing for his robe, Giles made his way down the stairs, his mind too fuzzy to imagine scenarios that would explain someone knocking at his door at eight in the morning.

Giles pulled opened the door and found himself blinking once again, not sure he'd actually woken up at all. Xander stood outside his door with a box of donuts and an unsure smile.

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry," Xander began, his nervous shifting suddenly making Giles realize that he'd been staring. "I didn't expect you to still be in bed. I just wanted to, you know, return the favor. The breakfast favor! Um, I know it's not pancakes and eggs and bacon, but, like I said, I never saw you eat real food before noon before yesterday and I don't know how to cook. Well, I can do those toaster things, but I didn't think you'd like those and I figured they'd probably get cold before I got here and--"

"Xander?" Giles found himself smiling. He moved to one side so that Xander could enter. "Why don't you set the donuts on the counter. I'll, uh, I'll just go get dressed."

Xander's eyes slipped down to his robe and then back up. "Right. 'Cause a dressed Giles is a happy Giles." There was something slightly bitter to Xander's voice. "Uh, okay, can we just pretend I never said that?" Xander nodded, a little too quickly, his face blushing crimson as he stepped past Giles.

Giles closed his eyes for a moment, forcing himself not to think about those words, that tone, not to analyze them. Shutting the door, he turned and headed for the stairs. "I'll, uh, I'll be right back," he said over his shoulder, not quite ready to face Xander.

"Right! I'll get everything ready. I got a bunch of jelly donuts, 'cause you make such a big deal when they're gone. It isn't like I ate the last one on purpose, you know. I don't have to be to work until nine, so I thought it would be, uh, nice if I returned the breakfast favor. Did I already say that?"

Giles realized with a slight start that it was rather nice to listen to Xander babble. It filled the flat, took away the silence that sometimes seemed oppressive, but Giles didn't have to respond, didn't have to even listen, for the most part. He grabbed the first pair of sweats he found, dressing quickly. Part of him wanted to shower, shave, fully wake up before he had anything to do with breakfast, but Xander would have to leave soon and . . . That thought gave him pause, made him wonder if it wouldn't be better if he did go through his morning rituals. The fact that he would have less time with Xander was both the up and down side. It was probably better if he did spend as little time with Xander as he could reasonably manage. Better for both of them if he made himself scarce.

But was it? Xander was going through so much. It must be hard to not only find out that he was half demon, but to also be realizing his sexuality was more complicated then he'd expected . . . Giles swallowed hard, trying to work through the tangle of thoughts. Was he simply justifying his desire to be near Xander? Would pulling away while Xander was in such a state be selfish?

Sighing, Giles closed his eyes, Xander's babble filling the flat, background noise to Giles' own rollercoaster thoughts. Xander kept coming to him, seeking him out, but Giles couldn't pin down why, not with his own wants and desires getting in the way. He couldn't trust his own judgment. The revelation came in a flash of searing emotion, so many different feelings he couldn't quantify them all. Desire, longing, hurt and fear were just the most easily definable.

Good lord. What was he going to do?

Giles descended the stairs more confused than he had been just minutes ago. If he couldn't trust his own motives, his own judgment, what could he do? The last thing he wanted was to wind up hurting Xander, or Anya. Perhaps it would be better to distance himself now, to hurt Xander a little now and avoid--God, he was in deep trouble.

"You know, you need more orange juice. Or do you want coffee? I can make coffee. It's not really cooking so it's not against the 'male and under twenty-five rule'. Okay, so I kinda made that rule up myself and nobody would care if I broke it, but . . . you're a rules kinda guy. Right? I mean, yeah, rules can be good and all, but some rules you just gotta break."

Giles stopped on his way to the kitchen, his eyes snapping to Xander's face through the pass-through. Xander looked horrified at what he'd just said, but it was more his tone that had caught Giles' attention. They stood, staring at one another, the air crackling with mutual tension. Giles' throat and chest were tight with thoughts and emotions he refused to name. Not now. There would be plenty of time to analyze and curse, but later.

He cleared his throat, looking away and finally breaking the moment. "I'll just, uh, I'll make the coffee," Giles said, not letting himself think about why Xander's face fell for an instant before he slapped on a fake smile.

"Right, I'll go, uh . . . get out the donuts." Xander pushed past him and Giles felt guilty for a moment before he pushed it aside. Now wasn't the time, later. When Xander had gone and Giles had nothing to do all day but stock shelves and pretend interest in his customers.

Silence filled the flat once again and Giles flailed for something somewhat safe for them to discuss. "So, uh, have you and Anya discussed the trip?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Uh, we talked about it last night. She thinks it'll be fun, camping and stuff. She, uh, says sleeping under the stars should be romantic." There was a bewildered tone to Xander's voice and Giles couldn't help but laugh. Unfortunately, he thought it might be slightly hysterical. Was there any topic of conversation that was safe? "What? What's funny? I mean, she says it like I should know, but the only time I've ever camped out was . . . well, let's just say that it wasn't for the fun of sleeping outside."

"Well," Giles finally said, pouring out two cups of coffee and setting one down in front of Xander before he took his seat. "It's just that you sounded so . . . confused," Giles shrugged, reaching for a jelly.

"Well, I am," Xander said with a snort. "I don't know. Sometimes I just don't _get_ Anya. It's like . . . she's got all these expectations and I do my best, but I don't know what all of them are and she's always surprising me with something new and . . ." Xander shrugged and Giles looked up to see him staring morosely at his donut.

It tugged at Giles' heart, made him want to help even though he knew he shouldn't get involved. That was the one thing of which he was sure, in fact, that he really shouldn't get any deeper into this mess. Playing relationship councilor to a couple when he flinched inside every time he saw them touch . . . it was a very bad idea, to say the least.

But Xander looked so sad.

"Surprises can be good," he finally said, turning his eyes to his own donut, his chest clenching tight. "And sometimes it's a person's unpredictability that, uh, that draws one. Never being certain what's going to come next. It can be . . . a thrill." Giles smiled a bit sadly at that. Wanting to shake his head at himself. That had been why he'd first been drawn to Ethan, really. That mad, mischievous glint in the man's eyes, never knowing what he would do next and whether or not it would get them all killed. Xander had that effect on him too, though in a far safer and more amusing way. He never knew what Xander was going to say next, what he was going to do. Realizing Xander hadn't said anything, Giles looked up to find Xander looking at him with curious eyes and an indecipherable smile. "What?"

"Uh, just . . . I don't know. You looked like . . . I don't know. Like maybe you were somewhere else?" There was a slight blush on Xander's cheeks and Giles didn't know what to make of it. Xander couldn't possibly have known what he was thinking. Giles almost panicked until Xander finished his thought. "Was that what you liked about Ethan?"

Giles blinked, wondering how Xander had figured that out--well, really, Ethan and Chaos, perhaps it wasn't such a leap after all. Why Xander wanted to discuss it, that was the real question, unfortunately, Giles had no idea as to the answer.

"Uh," he looked back to his donut, surprised that he was actually considering answering. "Yes," he finally said with a snort. "Ethan was full of surprises. Of course, one could never be sure those surprises wouldn't attempt to eat one's skin."

Xander laughed and Giles couldn't help but join in, the sound loosening something inside him, relaxing him though he knew he shouldn't let it.

"Did that actually happen?" Xander turned toward him, leaning against the pass-through, body relaxed and dark eyes shining. Why was it always eyes like that? "Did something really try that?"

Giles laughed, nodding and putting down his donut. He turned toward Xander, soaking in that smile, the pure enjoyment on the young man's face. "Ethan found this job for us to do. We were, uh, we were supposed to summoning a Mephit to, uh, to clip its toenails," Giles couldn't keep himself from laughing at the incredulity on Xander's face.

"Someone hired you to clip a demon's toenails?"

"Uh, well, they were needed for some spell or another. I didn't ask what, but something like that is hardly a one person job. Someone's got to be there to make sure the thing doesn't escape and someone else has got to do the clipping and it's even better if you can have a few people hold that damn thing down if you can't reach an agreement--"

"An agreement?" Xander laughed, shaking his head. "You mean you guys were going to . . . what, trade it something for its toenails?"

"Yes," Giles answered, getting into his story now. He hadn't thought about the incident in years and he wasn't about to mention some aspects of the story, such as what they'd eventually wound up trading, but it felt good to tell it and it felt good to see Xander smile. "However, we wound up, not with a Mephit, but with a Kaibiri, which is a close cousin. Close enough that we didn't think it would bother the spell. Only Kaibiri aren't nearly as calm and are apparently quite vain about their feet. Or, at least, this one was."

The time passed so quickly, both of them laughing as Giles told Xander how the Kaibiri had threatened to skin them all if even one of them touched its feet. Before he knew it, Xander was glancing at his watch. The disappointed look that crossed Xander's face shouldn't have made Giles feel good, but it was nice to see.

"I have to go," Xander said with a shrug. "Work. Uh, but . . . this was really fun and, uh, would . . . would you mind if we did it again?" Xander asked as he stood, backing toward the door and grabbing his coat of the hook.

"Of course," Giles said before he could catch himself. He watched Xander leave with a feeling of dread, especially when Xander smiled at him over his shoulder before shutting the door.

God, what was he doing? He stood, hands automatically reaching to clean up, though his mind was firmly elsewhere, running along a tangle of thoughts that left him cursing himself. Xander was still confused, and Giles was the only one to know, apparently, about his sudden revelation. It only made sense that Xander might seek him out, really. Xander was discovering that he wasn't straight and while Willow had gone through the same thing, Giles was male and had experience in that area. Which was, of course, why Xander was interested in hearing about Ethan.

Giles tried to turn his mind elsewhere. He cleaned up quickly and then set about getting ready. He took more time than he normally would and even he wasn't sure why. It might have been that he was putting off seeing Anya at the Magic Box or, equally as likely, that he didn't want to start his day and leave breakfast behind. Either way, it was silly and Giles tried to force himself to hurry, especially through his shower, during which thoughts of Xander were particularly dangerous.

He made it to the shop only a little later than he normally found acceptable, but Anya was busy enough stalking their two customers that she didn't even glance at him. Giles made quick work of dropping his things off and getting to the training room to begin unpacking the latest deliveries, relaxing into the familiar, routine task. Unfortunately, it didn't require much of his mind, which meant that his thoughts kept circling back to Xander and to Anya.

\-----

Sighing, he put the stock aside. Hours of unpacking boxes, putting things away, trying not to look at Anya, staying mostly in the basement or the training room so that he didn't have to talk to her, none of it had helped. Kneeling on the training room floor, staring through Buffy's heavy bag, Giles decided it was time to stop pretending. Somehow, he'd worked his way into an enormous mess and now he had to stop ignoring it and start extricating himself.

Xander was off limits. He knew that, had always known that. No matter how he felt or what he wanted, that was the one truth he had to accept. It was the only way to start to make this easier. Nodding to himself, he closed his eyes, listing the reasons he could never even consider forgetting that. Xander didn't want him. Xander loved Anya. Xander was far too young for him. Xander was a friend. Xander was exceedingly confused right now. Giles thought most of his trouble had begun the other night. Xander had kissed him and it had lit a spark he'd never quite had before. The feel of Xander's body against his, the feel of his lips and . . . Giles cut that line of thought off, sitting up and opening his eyes.

Xander was off limits.

With that basic truth laid down, it was time to move to the other questions and Giles didn't know where to begin. He wanted to help. Having seen the desperation in Xander's eyes that night, he knew what was lurking underneath. Xander said he wanted to ignore it, but Giles had seen the confusion and the heartache and he couldn't ignore that, couldn't simply turn his back to it. Even if it hurt him to see Xander and Anya together he'd better damn well get used to it. Xander wanted his help, for whatever reason. That night, the way Xander had touched him, said his name . . . he had to forget about it. Whatever . . . revelations it had, apparently, inspired in Xander, Giles knew he was only tangentially part of it.

Xander had wanted comfort, and he'd discovered something about himself while seeking it. That didn't mean anything. Couldn't mean anything, other than Xander had twice as much to deal with. If Giles could help him, make this transition easier, he would.

Startled when he heard a throat being cleared, Giles looked up to find Anya standing in the doorway. He stood, telling himself he had nothing to feel guilty about even as he continued to feel it. She was standing straight, her arms crossed over her stomach in a way that made her looked vulnerable, hurt. "Uh, Anya. Hello. What, uh, what can I do for you?"

"I'm not stupid," she said and the bottom dropped out of Giles' stomach.


	3. Chapter 3

**\--Xander--**

Xander left Giles' apartment more confused than when he'd gotten there. He'd thought he'd worked it all out in his head, that it was just that Giles had been so nice to him, looked so worried and been so . . . Xander shook his head, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he stopped at a red light.

He'd thought that he'd go there and he wouldn't feel the same now, wouldn't want to reach out and touch, wouldn't have that insane urge to kiss him, feel what it was like to . . . Xander groaned, turning toward the construction site and swearing at himself. This was stupid. This was more than stupid, it was insane. That's it. He'd lost his mind. It was the demon in him, it had to be. Okay, so, maybe, he'd kinda always thought Giles was . . . not sexy, he was not about to admit to sexy. Maybe interesting. Yeah. He'd always thought Giles was interesting. And, okay, so maybe, once or twice, when he was really horny, he might have kinda thought about a guy. Not anyone specific. Just doing . . . things with a guy. Just because the guy usually smelled like old books and tea didn't mean it was Giles. It didn't.

He parked his car and sat for a moment, staring. What was he going to do? On the one hand, there was Anya and she was beautiful and sweet and so . . . new to everything. He didn't always get her, she kept him guessing and . . . he was never really sure where he stood, never sure when he was doing something wrong. Sometimes it felt like he was just there, just along for the ride and . . . he didn't know what to do. On the other hand . . . he wasn't even sure what was on the other hand. He _liked_ Giles and he really . . . he really liked spending time with him, but he'd been so sure that, when he saw Giles this morning, he wouldn't feel that tug in his gut and the lighted-headed rush of blood.

Then Giles hand answered the door and he'd been all just-out-of-bed and he'd smiled and . . . God, what was _wrong_ with him? He had everything he'd always wanted. Right? Didn't he?

Realizing he was getting nowhere, and really just wanting to not think for a while, Xander finally got out of the car and headed to the site. He managed not to think, throwing himself into whatever work there was, even jobs he didn't normally do. The guys looked at him funny, but they didn't say anything, not to him anyway.

He didn't think at all. He just worked. He worked straight through the morning, when he didn't think about the fact that he was half demon, that he was what he'd hated ever since one had set up shop in his best friend's body. He worked through lunch, when he didn't think about Anya and the sad way she'd looked at him that morning. He didn't think about the way they hadn't had sex since that night. He didn't think about the way she'd kept asking what he and Giles had talked about. He worked through the rest of the day, when he most certainly didn't think about Giles, about the way he'd laughed and talked at breakfast, about the way Giles had kissed him, _felt_ against him, _looked_ at him.

By the end of the day he was exhausted and not just from the work. Not thinking took a lot out of a person. Sighing, he turned down the offer of a drink out with the guys on the site and headed straight for his car. The problem was that, once behind the wheel, he didn't know where to go.

Home to Anya? To Giles' place? It took him only a moment to decide, really. He turned on the engine and pulled out onto the street, his mind filled with only one thought that he'd admit to anyone. Willow. He wanted to see Willow.

She'd been less scarce, but still wrapped up in college and Tara, but . . . She was Willow and she'd help him sort this out. She'd . . . God, could he really admit to her all the things that were going on in his head? Could he really sit down and _talk_ about this? He had with Giles, but that . . . it was different. Giles had been there, had seen him like that and still . . . touched him, smiled at him, looked at him like he was someone worth seeing, like he was still Xander.

But he couldn't talk to Giles about all of this, couldn't lay it all out and hope Giles would sort it out, not when . . . not when Giles was such a big part of it. Not when that meant laying himself open and . . . God, Giles had already turned him down once and it had hurt and . . . he couldn't do that again. He'd needed for Giles to keep looking at him like that, wanted it so bad it hurt, and Giles had handed him over to Anya.

Maybe Giles was right, though. Xander wasn't angry. He had been at first. He'd been so mad because he'd . . . he'd just _thrown_ himself at _Giles_. He'd just wanted to be told it was all right, that he was all right, to have someone . . . no, not someone, Giles, he'd wanted Giles and . . .

_God. I'm so screwed._

He swallowed hard, gripping the steering wheel tight as he parked outside Willow and Tara's place. He nearly raced to get there, hoping that Willow wasn't in class even though he knew she wasn't. He knew her schedule, but there was always some place else she could be. Out with Tara, out with Buffy. He knocked on the door, trying to calm himself down. He felt as if he was going to explode and had no idea what he was going to say. That was always the worst because he knew he was just going to open his mouth and it wasn't going to make sense, but he was so damn confused.

Willow opened the door, smiled and Xander walked in, spewing words before the door even closed.

"God, Will, you gotta help me! I have no idea what's happening to me and I can't fix it and it's all spinning around in my head like that time there was that fair and we nearly got sick on the rides. It's like everything's flashing by and I keep seeing myself doing things, saying things that . . . God, I shouldn't and I--Hi, Tara--and I think I’m gay." Willow and Tara both blinked at him, staring with opened mouths. The silence went on too long.

"'Cause, the other night, the one when we found out that I . . . that I’m part . . . d-demon. I went to Giles, I-I didn't tell you guys, but I just . . . I couldn't-- never want to hurt you guys. I mean, you're my Will and she's your Tara, so she's kinda my Tara by association and Anya and Buffy and I just wanted it all to go away and then it was raining and we kissed and I said I wanted to--"

"You and _Giles_ kissed?" Willow's voice stopped him cold and Xander felt himself nodding, staring at his best friend in all the world and hoping she could make this make sense.

"And, uh, other things. I-I kinda jumped him. I was stripping out of my wet clothes and he was right there and we kinda, um, made out and I . . . kinda made him. Not like forced him, but I was . . . kinda pushy and I just . . . I don't know . . ." he trailed off, looking at Willow and Tara's shocked expressions and waiting.

"Um, I'm going to go get us s-some sandwiches. I'll go to that deli down the street and get sandwiches and-and something to drink." Tara glanced at Willow, smiled a shy smile at him, and left them alone.

Willow blinked.

Xander slumped down onto the bed and laid his head in his hands.

"You . . . and-and Giles?" The bed sank as Willow sat down on the edge. He knew her voice well enough to know that if he looked up, she'd still look shocked. "Had sex?" She whispered that last word.

"No!" Xander's head shot up out of his hands and he shook it frantically. "No. No sex, but . . . uh, that's not saying that I wasn't kinda . . . uh, h-heading that way. Giles . . . Giles wouldn't, but there, uh, there may have been touching. There was, actually, yeah, there was definitely touching and, um . . . excitement and . . . oh, God." Xander laid his head back in his hands, wanting to curl up in a corner, wishing the Hellmouth would open up under him and get it over with.

"So, you . . . do you still, uhm, _like_ Anya?" Willow leaned against him. Her voice was still shocky, but she was trying and Xander relaxed a bit just for that.

"Anya? Yeah. I mean, I still . . . do, definitely do, but . . . I do with Giles, too."

"Oh, boy." Willow let out a long breath, laying her head on his shoulder. "Okay, so, right. Bisexual?"

Xander swallowed hard, nodding. "Yeah. I guess. A bisexual, half demon. God, why me?"

And Willow laughed, silent at first, almost holding it in and then shaking with it before it tumbled out, filling the room. Xander gave her an indignant glare, but then found the laughter contagious.

"No wonder you're a demon magnet!" Willow panted between bursts of laughter, "Something for everyone. Demon. Human. Boy. Girl."

"That's not funny!" Xander insisted, his ribs starting to ache.

"I know," she said softly, the laughter dying away. They lay there, staring at one another, Willow's face solemn. "I know. It's hard, huh? It's like suddenly your world is all upside down, but finally upside right and it's scary, 'cause it's different and it's new and there's this whole big new thing looming over you and you don't know how to make everything feel . . . well worn again."

"Yeah," Xander sighed, wondering how Willow could always come up with just the right thing to say. She knew what he was going through with the whole Giles thing, or mostly knew, but it was the same with the demon. When he let himself think about it, he was so scared. Everybody kept telling him that he wasn't going to change, really. Then there was talk of slime or tails or horns or . . . he didn't even remember all the things that _could_ happen, even if they were unlikely. And even if nothing changed outside, he _was_ different. Knowing this made him different in a way he couldn't pin down, couldn't describe. He just wasn't who he was before he'd known. Everything felt off.

"We'll figure it out," Willow said with a sigh. "So . . . Giles?" The name contained so many questions he wasn't sure where to start.

"Yeah. Giles," Xander sighed, shaking his head.

"Why?" Willow propped her head up on her elbow, a smile hovering around her lips. "I never thought we'd be talking about boys, by the way. Girls, maybe, but boys?"

"Yeah, well, it wasn't something I was really expecting either," Xander snorted. "Uh, why? Why Giles?"

"Yeah. Why Giles?"

"Um, because . . . God, I don't know how to do this Willow! I mean, he's a guy!"

"Okay, okay," Willow reached out her free hand, patting his shoulder. "So, why Anya? I never really got that anyway, so . . . Why Anya?"

Xander shrugged, turning onto his back and playing with the buttons on his shirt. "Well, she's beautiful . . . She's sweet. She's like . . . When she found about the Mayor's Ascension, she ran and then she came back and she . . . she wanted me to with her. She was packed, she had a car, and she said that the thought of something happening to me made her feel bad." Xander smiled at the memory. "Of course, then, when I said I couldn't go, she said she hoped I died, but that was . . . Anya's way of saying she wasn't happy."

Willow snorted at that, but it was laughter snort and Xander smiled wider. "You never told me that."

"Well, I thought we were all gonna die. More important things, ya know?"

"Yeah. I get it. So, she's sweet and beautiful and . . . ?"

"I don't know," Xander shrugged, staring at the ceiling. "Can you explain why you love Tara?"

"She's beautiful and sweet," Willow smiled at him and Xander shook his head. "She's also intelligent and I like her smile and she's fun, she makes me laugh and she's warm and caring and _Tara_."

"Huh. Should I have more reasons? What does it mean that I don't have that many reasons? I mean, I can have more! Anya's . . . she's . . . she's Anya. She's new to everything and it's . . . I like seeing it all with her. I like . . . the way she didn't cry at Bambi, but that she cried when she found out Darth Vader was Luke's father."

"She cried?"

"Yeah," Xander laughed, shaking his head. "I do like her Will, I just . . . sometimes I don't _get_ her, ya know? I don't know what I'm doing or what she wants me to do. And I . . . feel like we're both just . . . _there_. Like, I'm just there and she's just there, so we might as well be there together. I . . . don't know."

"Sound's like you do," Willow commented with a sigh. "What about Giles?"

"I . . ." realizing she wasn't going to let it rest, Xander closed his eyes and tried not to blush. Giles was a guy. You just didn't say those sorts of things about another _guy_. "He's smart. He's . . . He knows about being . . . bisexual and he's funny. Like, at breakfast--"

"Breakfast?" Willow raised her eyebrows, her head coming off her hand. Xander's eyes snapped open and he looked over at Willow with a nervous smile.

"Uh, he . . . the other night, after . . . Well, Anya and I had a fight and she told me to go somewhere else to sleep, she meant come back in an hour with flowers, but anyway, I . . . didn't know where else to go--"

"You could have come here," Willow put in with a slight frown. "You know that, don't you?"

"Uh, yeah, but . . . I went to Giles' and I . . . slept on the couch." There must have been something in his voice. Willow's eyebrow rose even higher. "Um, so Giles was . . . on the couch, when I went to sleep, but . . . um, he made breakfast the next morning and I . . . um, today I took him donuts to pay him back?"

Willow gave him a look that said he was as transparent as glass. "You mean you wanted to see him to see if you still felt . . . that way?"

"Yeah," Xander sighed. "And I so did. What am I going to do?"

Willow sighed, taking her hand in his. "Well, I . . . What do you want to do?"

Xander shrugged. "If I knew that I wouldn't be asking. It's so confusing. I like Anya, really, really like Anya. And I finally, I mean I have all the things I always wanted, right? And Anya's so sweet and I would never want to hurt her. I mean, what if I break it off with Anya and then Giles doesn't . . . I don't even know if Giles . . . You know?"

"What did Giles say? I mean . . . you guys talked, right? After you and he . . . did stuff?"

"Don't say it like that!" Xander flinched. "It's not like we really did anything. I mean, okay, I kinda tried, but Giles didn't. I . . . kinda pushed, Will. Hard. Like . . . threw myself at him."

Willow's eyes widened and she sighed. "Threw yourself at him?"

"Um, well, there was pressing of bodies and . . . . kissing and there was almost-naked, both of us. No shirts and . . . I kinda took his off and--" Just thinking about it was doing things to him. Xander stopped abruptly, giving Willow a horrified look.

"Did he say anything? I mean, you guys talked about this, right?"

"Um, kinda. When I went back that night I told him that I . . . wasn't straight and that I wasn't upset about the kiss, but he deflected it, or didn't get it, or . . . And I didn't have the nerve, I mean, after earlier . . . I kinda fell asleep on him."

Willow shook her head. "What do you mean 'fell asleep on him'?"

"I was just, really tired and . . . I just wanted . . . God, this sounds so stupid, I can't even say it." Xander picked up a pillow, laying it over his lap and picking at the thread.

"Come on, Xander, you can tell me." She reached out and touched his foot, giving him a reassuring smile.

"No, really, it sounds like I'm two or something."

"Xander," Willow gave him a stern look and Xander sighed.

Closing his eyes, he blurted it out quick, feeling himself go red just at saying it. "Iwantedhimtoholdme." He didn't open his eyes to see Willows reaction, he was afraid he already knew what it would be. That 'awww' face she made whenever she thought he'd done something cute.

"Wow," Willow said, the sigh that followed kinda wistful. "Sounds, kinda intense, actually." Xander opened his eyes and saw not the 'you-did-something-cute' face, but a slightly worried one instead. "You really do like him," she sad, her forehead furrowing.

"Yeah, I kinda said that, only with a lot more embarrassing details."

"But, I thought . . . Well, I thought you just meant that you were attracted to him and it scared you because he's a guy, but you . . . you _like_ him."

"Yeah," Xander said, his tone flat. "I'm so screwed. I am the king of screwed in the land screwedavia. Or maybe the court jester. What am I going to do, Will?"

"I . . . I don't know," she said softly, giving him a helpless look.

**\--Giles--**

Startled when he heard a throat being cleared, Giles looked up to find Anya standing in the doorway. He stood, telling himself he had nothing to feel guilty about even as he continued to feel it. She was standing straight, her arms crossed over her stomach in a way that made her looked vulnerable, hurt. "Uh, Anya. Hello. What, uh, what can I do for you?"

"I'm not stupid," she said and the bottom dropped out of Giles' stomach.

"Of course not," Giles said seriously, taking in Anya's stance and motioning her to the sofa. His mind was running a mile a minute, but he refused to be discourteous, to leave her standing there as if this were a gun fight or a duel. She deserved more from him, especially after everything he'd done.

She sat down, carefully smoothing out her dress as Giles took a seat on the couch next to her. He sat on the edge, his hands clenched together, elbows propped on his knees. "What can I do for you?"

"I know you and Xander have been . . ." she shrugged, as if the rest was obvious and Giles felt his muscles go rigid, "I know you've been talking about me and I just . . . I want to know what's wrong." She looked up at him with slightly teary eyes. "Did I do something? Am I a bad girlfriend? I try, I do, but I don't understand some times and I don't get why he doesn't seem to understand either and . . ."

She trailed off and Giles searched for words, searched for something he could tell her that would comfort her and . . . God, what had he gotten himself into? Anya should not be here, asking him for advice on her boyfriend, on Xander. He was the last one she should be talking to, but it wasn't as if he could explain that.

"Uh, well," Giles sighed, meeting Anya's gaze and shrugging. "The truth is that Xander and I haven't actually been discussing you. Just, uh, his-his transitions and how he might be able to deal with them." And that was true, it just left out the part about his kissing Xander, and . . . God, he was a fool.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know what to say," Giles finally managed. "Xander's . . . I know you understand how confusing a time it is for him, with everything . . ." God, had Xander even told her about his revelation about his sexuality? Whatever it was, because Giles still wasn't quite clear on that. Obviously, the details hadn't gotten out, but he might have mentioned something? Finally, deciding it didn't even matter whether Xander had or hadn't discussed that with Anya, Giles took her hands between his and shook his head. "Whatever's happening, Anya, I'm certain it isn't your fault."

There was something unreadable in Anya's eyes, something sad and hard that flashed in them for a moment and then was gone. Giles noticed it, his chest tightening with the thought that he'd given something away. Then Anya's face softened and she sighed, looking down at the floor.

"I just want to help him through this," she said and Giles opened his mouth to reassure her only to be cut off by a squeaking sound from the doorway into the shop.

Giles' head snapped up and he saw Willow standing there, her eyes wide. Unsure what had caused that reaction, Giles stood, worried. "Willow? What's happened?"

"Huh?" Willow just looked at him and shrugged, shaking her head far too quickly. "Happened? Nothing's happened. Why would you think something's happened when there's nothing to happen?"

"I'm sorry?" Giles asked, forehead furrowing. He failed to hear her reply however, because Xander appeared behind her, taking in first Anya and then him. Giles saw the worry at once and at least he understood it this time. "Stock," he said, hoping the very casualness of his reply would set Xander's mind to ease. "And discussing this weekend."

"Right," Xander said, seeming to calm down only a little. "You've got camping stuff, right big guy? Willow's letting Anya borrow her sleeping bag and the little tent for . . . for us."

Giles swallowed at that, but managed not to clench any part of his anatomy, which was a bit of a feat when his mind conjured up pictures of how it would go. Anya and Xander retreating to their tent and Giles to his. Some malicious and truly demented part of his brain had to throw in an image of himself lying there alone with the sounds of Xander and Anya together as background music.

Lovely. Yes, 'Hell' had definitely been an understatement.

"Yes, I have everything I'll need," Giles replied, grateful for the sound of the bell over the shop door. He made his escape to look after the customer. By the time Giles had finished with the man, Dawn had arrived and so had Buffy.

Giles thought he might have given Buffy a bit of challenge during training that day. Unfortunately that only meant that she fought harder, which consequently meant his bruises were darker and more painful.

He managed to stay busy until everyone had left. While Giles felt as if he'd been getting slightly odd looks from everyone, he thought that, perhaps, it was only Xander and maybe Willow. It was simply so hard to tell when he worked so hard to spend most of his time in a different room.

Sighing as he unlocked his door, Giles set aside the books he'd meant to give to Xander. He'd completely forgotten. He'd tried not to be around the younger man, or at least to minimize the time he spent around Xander. While he hadn't intended to do that, at first, the presence of the others had made it a necessity. All he could think, every time he caught himself glancing in Xander's direction, was that one of the girls was going to figure it out. One of them would see through him.

The very thought made him shudder. His imagination had no trouble conjuring what would happen if they did. Xander was young enough to be his son, for god's sakes. He was vulnerable and confused and here Giles was casting longing looks at him. What respect they had for him would go right out the window, not that he could blame them, his self-respect did that almost every time Xander entered the room.  
  
Giles didn't want to think about it any longer. It had been in his head so long that he needed, almost more than anything, a break, needed to not think. He wanted to slip into a hot, salt-laden bath and then into bed, where he would sleep and nothing more. Of course, he also wanted to wake up a few days in the past, but he wasn't going to get that.

And, as he reached for the bottle of Scotch and there was a knock at the door, Giles decided he probably wasn't going to get the long bath either. At least not for a while yet. Turning to the door, Giles found himself deeply ambivalent. He couldn't control the flare of hope that it was Xander, that he'd get to apologize for his behavior in avoiding the younger man, and that he'd get to spend some time with him without fearing his masks would be seen through by observers. Of course, he was also dreading having to explain himself, not to mention the fact that, eventually, he'd have to discuss things with Xander.

It was the only decision he'd managed to come to all day. He'd have liked to put it off a little longer, though.

"What happened to ignoring me?" he muttered to the room at large as he went to open the door. He found Xander shuffling nervously from one foot to the other. Giles tried very hard not to notice the way Xander was looking at him through his eyelashes. Because, if he were to notice, the urge to reach out and touch Xander might just overwhelm him.

"Hey," Xander said, a shy, uncertain smile lifting his lips. Giles realized he hadn't said anything, that he'd been standing there staring. He cleared his throat and tried to make his smile believable.

"Xander, hello. Uh, did you . . . need something? I was just about to--"

"Well," Xander started, speaking quickly. "It's just that I saw you limping, er, at the shop and I . . . I thought Buffy must have really kicked your butt today, so I . . ." Xander held up a jar of something that looked suspiciously like liniment.

Giles' mind was apparently feeling perverse as it immediately brought up images of Xander's hands rubbing over his many aching muscles.

"Uh," Xander shrugged, his Adam's apple bobbing with the strength of his swallow. Giles was fairly certain he shouldn't be noticing such things. "I hurt my arm, I month or so ago. You know, lifting heavy stuff, and one of the crew gave me some of this. It's like a miracle. But not a big miracle, ya know. It's not turning fish into wine, or . . . wine into frogs or--"

"Thank you," Giles found himself saying, taking the jar from Xander's hand. Giles knew he should simply tell Xander that he'd had a long day and that he'd see him some other time. Giles knew he should shut the door, take a quick, cold, shower, and retreat to his bed to lick his wounds. Unfortunately, he didn't. He stood aside so that Xander could come in.

"No problem." Some of the nervousness seemed to drain from Xander. He stepped inside and gave Giles another of those shy smiles that had Giles wanting to do highly inappropriate things. "I figured a Slayer-sized pummeling would need the big guns."

Giles snorted, shutting the door and setting the liniment down on his desk. "I suppose it was terribly obvious that I was less than impressive this evening?" Halfway to the pass-through, Giles realized it was probably inappropriate to offer Xander a Scotch and, more importantly, it would be terribly stupid. The last thing the two of them needed, Giles especially, was to be thinking less than crystal clear.

"I don't know," Xander was babbling from his place sitting on the back of the sofa. "I mean, she's a Slayer. You're pretty much lucky you're not black and blue every day. That's pretty impressive. I mean, she does kinda forget sometimes, ya know? So, it's lucky you've got all your parts. Er . . . Not that I, uh, well--"

"Xander?" Giles stepped into rescue Xander from the collapse of his own thoughts, smiling fondly as Xander blinked at him. "Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Well, no not this late, I suppose."

"Uh, no, no, I'm good. I just . . . Well, I wanted to bring that stuff over and . . ." Whatever Xander had stopped himself from saying made him blush and Giles had to pry his eyes away from the color staining Xander's neck. "And, to make sure you were okay and not sitting around being moany, er, with the pain."

He should talk to him. Giles knew he should start the talk he'd spent all day attempting to plan out in his head. But he didn't know how, or didn't want to know how. Instead Giles took a seat at his desk, stalling.

"Thank you. Training was . . . a little vigorous today," Giles said, looking up at Xander when the young man snorted.

"Vigorous? Giles, Buffy put her foot through the training dummy's stomach. That was after you worked with her and she was having a _good_ day. You're probably black and blue under those clothes." Xander glanced away then, clearing his throat.

"I'm fine, Xander, really," Giles tried to reassure him. He found the concern comforting, actually, though he really shouldn't.

Xander gave him a disbelieving look. "Yeah and the bruise on your cheek? Fashion statement, right?"

Giles blinked, raising his hand to touch his cheek, which caused a small wince. "Er, no, but that wasn't Buffy's doing. Uh, not directly. There were flying . . . dummy-pieces."

"The dummy hit you?" Xander smiled and Giles couldn't help but return it. "You want I should beat him up?"

Giles chuckled, more pleased to see Xander smiling than he probably should be, considering. "No, I think I'll handle it myself. After the liniment kicks in."

"The what?" Xander blinked and then followed Giles' hand as he motioned to the jar Xander had brought. "Oh, that's what it's called."

Silence filled the space between them. Giles had no idea what to say and Xander seemed to be in the same boat. Just as Giles stood to put on some tea, Xander stood as well. They looked at each other for a moment. There were so many things Giles wanted to say that they rushed up and clogged his throat, making it impossible to get any of them out.

"I should go," Xander finally said and Giles' eyes were drawn to the way his Adam's apple bobbed. "You probably want to rub on some liniment and . . . Yeah. I'll just, go." Xander began walking backwards toward the door. "Uh, I hope you feel better."

"I will. Thank you, uh, for the liniment."

"Right." Xander stood by the door, making no move to open it. He shuffled, glancing around the flat and then biting his lip. "Uh . . . I'll go." Giles watched him reach for the doorknob and knew that if he asked Xander to, he would stay. The urge was there. As sore as he was, Giles would have liked the company, but he knew it wasn't as simple as that. Quashing the urge, Giles nodded.

"Good night."

"Yeah," Xander said, turning and opening the door. He stopped, though and then turned around, quick. "Okay. Look. I just, I, um . . ." Xander seemed to deflate and he sighed, looking down at the floor for a moment. Giles felt his pulse quicken, the tension in the air pressing against him. He wanted to say something, but had no idea what. Xander looked up, meeting his gaze. Those brown eyes seemed defeated, somehow. The look made Giles want to reach out, made him want to touch and reassure. "You are still going with us this weekend, right?"

"What?" Giles blinked and then nodded. "Yes. Of course."

"Okay." Xander smiled, but it wasn't the bright thing it usually was. "Thanks." And then he was gone and Giles sighed, sitting down at his desk again. He reached out, picking up the jar of liniment and staring at it.


	4. Chapter 4

The knocking at the door woke Giles from a dream. He thought it was a good dream, but as he was ripped out of it so impolitely, he couldn't quite remember the details. Probably for the best as what he did remember included Xander and a beach.

Bleary eyed, he looked at the alarm clock. He must have turned the alarm off and gone back to sleep. After that, he was quick to rise, picking up his bathrobe and throwing it on as he stumbled down the steps, mostly on autopilot. It wasn't until he reached the bottom step that he realized it might be Xander. Xander, with a box of donuts and that ridiculous, nervous grin. He paused, swallowing hard, and then went to answer the door. It wasn't as if he could just pretend he wasn't home.

The week had past in a sort of limbo and Giles wasn't the only cause. He and Xander had been avoiding one another. Giles had to work hard at not being in the same place, never being alone, and he felt bereft. Still, he knew it was for the best and reminded himself of that fact every time he had to hastily leave the room with a false smile and a bad excuse. But if this was Xander, appearing at his door, what was he supposed to do? Tell him to go away? Refuse to have breakfast with him?

Part of him was glad to see Xander only at the Magic Box, where Anya, and usually others, were always nearby. The larger part of him, a part he refused to acknowledge, was disappointed. He'd liked having Xander all to himself. It was stupid, and dangerous, but he missed it. Giles stopped with his hand midway to the door, momentarily dizzy. He and Xander had only had breakfast twice. Yes, he had enjoyed it, but there wasn't much to miss, and yet . . .

Another knock pulled him from his thoughts. Giles blinked and shook his head. He opened the door to find Willow, bright and smiling.

"Hey, Giles!" She was smiling, but it seemed nervous. She'd been giving him odd looks all week and Giles thought she'd guessed that he was avoiding Xander, that he and Xander were avoiding one another.

"Hello. I was just, uh, I must have overslept." Giles pulled his robe tighter and stood aside. Why did Willow's _walk_ even have to be cheerful? Giles shook his head at himself. "What can I do for you?"

"I brought that stuff for your guys' trip this weekend. Could you help me get it all in the door?"

"Of course," he said, grabbing the two bags she'd brought and then setting them down inside.

The moment he felt her small hand on his wrist, Giles knew what was coming. Well, not exactly, but he knew it was going to be about Xander. He did his best to school his expression into something approaching neutrality as he turned back to her, an eyebrow raised in question.

"Giles, I . . . Okay, I don't want to step on toes, or egos, or any other man parts." Her eyes widened as she realized what she'd said, and blushed hot enough to scorch. "I didn't mean that, not-not the way it sounded. I just meant that guys are different and I--Oh, boy."

And, as much as Giles wanted to get out of this conversation, he couldn't leave Willow standing there embarrassed. He sighed and nodded. "I know what you mean, although I'm not terribly hopeful about where this conversation is probably heading."

Willow's blushed faded only a little. She shifted her weight, looking up at Giles in a way that recalled how she'd looked when he'd first met her and she actually had enough hair to hide her face.

"It's just . . . Okay, I'm not going to be specific, because I know that's just a load of bad waiting to happen, but I want you to know that . . . That no matter how things go. I've . . . I've got your back."

Giles blinked. "Er, perhaps you could be just a _tad_ more specific?" He had thought that she'd been talking about his attraction to Xander, but even as he mentally reviewed what she'd said, he couldn't fit it into the situation.

She blinked right back at him, her mouth gapping open. "Uh, well . . . You know, things. Things that are things that might not be things, but might be things, if you know . . . things." She seemed to realize the mess she'd made of that, since her blush rose on her face, turning it a truer red than her hair.

"Right," Giles said, feeling his forehead furrow. "Things, obviously." He was torn as to whether he should back out slowly, or just run. Either way, he was ending the conversation, before Willow decided to be blunt. Giles didn't think he could take that, just then. With a hand on her shoulder, he gently stirred Willow to the door. "Uh, I understand, Willow. Thank you."

She turned on the threshold, giving him a small smile. "Okay, I'm going, Mr. Silent-Type, but . . . I'm here."

Giles opened his mouth and then shut it, nodding. "I know. Thank you." He meant it that time and Willow's smile brightened before she left.

\------

Giles knew, for certain, that 'hell' was woefully inadequate when Xander and Anya appeared bright and early Saturday morning. Though he'd known that they would be coming, he hadn't expected them quite so early. He was dressed, at least, which was a nice change from the week he'd been having.

Xander had donuts. Giles wanted to break something that would make a lot of noise.

The drive was interminable. He had taken the backseat, despite the fact that he was quite a bit taller than Anya. He was cramped and tired, but the worst part was that Xander and Anya were arguing. Not about anything specific, as far as he could tell. Given that he was mentally reciting the chords of every song he could play just to drown it out, he couldn't tell much. Fortunately, it subsided before they were halfway there. Whatever the outcome, Anya tried to put on a happy face. Her bright, cheerful voice filled the car for most of the second half of the trip.

Giles groaned when it was time to unfold himself from the back of the car. The camp was an old summer camp. It had been closed a decade ago when a camp councilor had been torn to shreds. Apparently, the combination of 'summer camp' and 'dead body' was too much for the parents and the place had closed down, despite the face that it had been a freak accident with a hungry bear and not a serial killer. He supposed he wouldn't have sent his children to summer camp with hunger bears, either.

All the cabins were occupied, so they would have to actually camp, which Giles didn't really object to. Of course, he didn't usually go camping with only a sleeping bag, a small tent, and the bare necessities.

"Where is everybody?" Xander asked, glancing around as if he expected people to jump out of the common building.

"They'll be along," Giles said. "We're a little early and this part of the camp is mostly for visitors."

"You've been here before?" Anya asked. She and Xander were putting up their tent, though it was more that Xander was doing it while Anya handed him things.

"Yes, a few years ago." Giles finished putting up his own tent, trying not to let Xander's obvious nervousness infect him. "It's all right, Xander. They're not dangerous, and they certainly aren't going to hurt anyone."

Xander stopped, nodding and giving him a small smile. "Thanks. I got it." He still seemed nervous, but at least he wasn't casting glances over his shoulder every few minutes.

Anya tried to be supportive, Giles could tell. She kept awkwardly patting Xander's shoulder, and smiling whenever he looked up at her. Giles turned away and headed for the common building, where he might just find some tea. The building was small and split into three areas: a kitchen, a living room like area, and then the laundry area. There were bathrooms and showers around the other side of the building.

What there wasn't, was tea. Giles sighed, setting his hands against the edge of the counter and leaning his weight onto his forearms. With his eyes closed, he reminded himself why he was there. Xander needed him to be there, needed him to make this easier. Resolving to take things in their stride, he poured himself some water and went back outside.

The camp's owners, Steven and Exelpheus--who regarded himself as half-human--had come down to meet them. Anya was chatting with them while Xander shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Exelpheus looked entirely human, but Steven did have skin the color of mustard and hair redder than any human could--naturally--manage. They were twins.

"The ritual itself doesn't take long," Exelpheus was saying. "We'll be set up for it later tonight. You could leave tomorrow, if you wanted, but we also have an extensive library of texts on demon-human hybrids and you're more than welcome to stay and look through it."

"Thank you," Giles said in the pause that followed. Xander had tried to say it himself, but he didn't seem able to get the words out. Both Steven and Exelpheus turned, nodding a welcome. "And thank you for allowing us to come up here."

"You're quite welcome," Steven said as he and Giles shook hands. "It's always been part of our objective to help young people like Xander." Steven gave Xander a smile that was meant to be reassuring, but Giles wasn't sure Xander could get past all the teeth long enough to see it that way.

"And it's been lovely meeting Anyanka, as well," Exelpheus put in, his smile just as toothy but for entirely different reasons.

Xander started to bristle, Giles could see him standing straighter, opening his mouth to speak. Luckily, Anya hadn't noticed and jumped in before Xander could say anything. "It's so nice to know my reputation still stands," she said brightly. "I like to think I did some good work, over the years. Isn't that nice, Xander?" She turned her smile on him and Xander nodded mutely, his shoulders a little hunched.

"Well," Exelpheus said, "we'll let you get settled in. Everyone's up by the cabins if you'd like to socialize a little."

With a nod to Giles, both of them set off along the track that led into the woods and up the hill a little. Xander glowered at the backs of the retreating half-demons, but Anya's cheer seemed less feigned.

"I'm going to make us all lunch," she said, smiling as if her teeth was painful when her lips touched her teeth.

Xander and Giles shared a look that Anya, fortunately, did not see. "We brought picnic type stuff," Xander said. Hoping his relief wasn't too obvious--Anya cooked well enough, but he'd heard about her penchant for experimentation--Giles helped Anya get everything in to the common building. She chatted enough that he didn't have to say much of anything, all the better considering he had no idea what to say to her.

Just being in her vicinity made his guilt flare. But what could he do? She deserved to know, but she didn't deserve to hear it from him. Xander needed to tell her, should be the one to tell her, especially if Xander wanted their relationship to remain intact.

Of course, Giles didn't know what Xander wanted, if he did, things would have been at least a little easier. He hadn't been paying much attention to what Anya was saying and his sigh must have caught her attention.

"It's true," she said, the words snapping Giles back to himself. "It wasn't my best curse ever, but I think he deserved it." She was putting the perishables into the refrigerator, her tone so earnest that Giles was curious as to what he'd missed.

"I'm sure," Giles mumbled, lifting the last cooler up onto the table. It was heavy enough that he had to wonder what they'd put in it. The blood rushed to his head as he stood and Giles felt momentarily dizzy. He blinked, the world a little hazy around the edges, and then pulled his glasses off to give them a good cleaning. "I'm going to help Xander with the tent," he said, his guilt and worry pushing him to say more. "If any of the other residents come down it's probably best if someone's there to introduce them."

Anya glanced over at him, but the look was over before Giles could decipher it. "All right. Lunch shouldn't take long." Her voice was back to cheerfully bright and Giles had to wonder if the tone was forced.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but with no idea what to say. Instead, he turned and went to help Xander. _She isn't an imbecile,_ Giles' mental voice was saying. _She has to know that something's going on, even if she doesn't know what._ Giles sighed again, pausing outside the door and closing his eyes against the bright sunshine, collecting himself.

Xander had gotten the tent up by the time he arrived, and was busy laying out his and Anya's sleeping bags inside. Giles knelt down at the entrance, watching Xander for a long moment.

Xander looked up at him and gave a wavering smile. "Anybody else to meet out there?" Giles got the impression that that played a rather large role in whether or not Xander had finished with the sleeping bags.

"No. We're alone. Xander . . ." Giles faltered to a stop. He didn't know what to say, but he couldn't stay quiet any longer. "Xander have you told Anya about . . . Uh, the . . . the kiss?"

"What?" Xander's head shut up, his eyes as round as golf balls. "Did she say something? Oh, God, she said something." He tried to stand, but the tent was a bit to small for that and--after a complicated series of events--Xander wound up tangled in a sleeping bag and staring up at the tent ceiling from his place on the ground. "Shit," he said with feeling, and then, "Shit, shit, shit, shit."

"She didn't say anything," Giles said. "I assume you didn't tell her, then?"

Xander's head turned toward him slowly. "Should I?" There was something in the tone that made Giles' chest tighten a little. So many ways to interrupt two words, but Giles had no idea which one was correct.

"Xander, she deserves to know that we . . . I mean, it's not as if . . ." He sighed, shrugging and sitting in the damp grass. He couldn't bring himself to look up at Xander. "If you want your relationship with Anya to-to last, then . . . Yes, you should tell her. You shouldn't keep something this important a secret."

He risked a quick glance up only to find that Xander had gone back to studying the tent ceiling. "Yeah," was all he said, but it had a tone of finality to it, and Giles suddenly needed very much to be somewhere else. Almost anywhere.

"I'm going to take a shower," he said, leaving without allowing himself to look at Xander.

**\--Xander--**

Anya dragged him up to meet the other half-demons who lived at the camp. She seemed to think it would be good for him, though Xander didn't get why. Giles hadn't come along, which wasn't a surprise, really. Xander was sure Giles was avoiding him.

_You should be used to it,_ said a bitter voice in his head. _He's been avoiding you all week._

_Yeah,_ said another voice, less bitter and more tired. _But you've been avoiding him, too._

Xander shook his head, hoping that voices in his head weren't the first step toward growing horns, or sprouting spikes. He'd been looking through the books Giles had given him pretty much every chance he got, which wasn't all that great a thing. Now that he knew what _could_ happen--however, unlikely--he kept checking himself over to make sure it hadn't.

Anya tugged him up the path and Xander went. The ritual wouldn't be for another hour and Xander really would have rather stayed down by their own tents so that he could freak out in peace. Anya wanted to go, though, which would have been fine, except that she wanted him to come with her. And he'd said he would, because looking up at that smiling face, he couldn't say 'no,' not now.

The cabins were lit, so it wasn't hard to find the place, even with the sun starting to set. Xander had no idea what to expect . . . Well, no, that wasn't true. After the books Giles had given him, his imagination was working overtime. "Anya, I'm not sure this is a good idea. I mean, I'm just kinda--"

"Relax, Xander," Anya said, "We're almost there."

"Yeah, but . . . Maybe we shouldn't have left Giles back at the camp all by himself. I know he said it was fine, but . . ." Xander thought he saw Anya's face scrunch up in annoyance, but when she turned to him there was just an overly bright smile.

"Stop worrying. He'll come up, if he wants to. This will be good for you." Her smile dimmed, but only because it wasn't so forced anymore. "I just want to help you, and meeting other people who are like you . . . Won't that help?"

Xander sighed and nodded weakly. He wanted to run for the camp, but this seemed important to Anya. "All right," he said, tossing his hands up in a jerky, nervous gesture of resignation.

"You must be Xander and Anyanka!" said a voice from their left. They both turned to find a woman standing a little away. It looked as if she were coming from one of the brightly lit cabins.

"Uh, yeah," Xander said, nodding too quickly. She was small, Buffy-sized, but the horns gave her at least another half a foot. Xander swallowed hard. "We're, uh, visiting."

"Yeah, I heard!" She grinned at them and then leaned forward a little. "We don't get many visitors. If you want, you can come and meet the others. We're just hanging around and being goofy, but you're more than welcome to join us!"

She was far, far too cheerful. Xander wanted to run. Not from her, or her horns, which Xander had to work not to stare at--What if I grow horns? Will I have to move out here?--but from what she represented. He didn't want to do this, didn't want to _be_ this. He wanted everything to be normal again. Unfortunately, Anya apparently wanted to go. She hooked her arm in his and pulled him along.

It wasn't as bad as Xander thought it would be. The half-demons were . . . really nice, actually. They seemed excited to have a visitor and they didn't push Xander with many questions. Well, most of them didn't. One, a tall, entirely bald woman named Selly kept asking him questions, especially if Anya took her eye off of him for a minute.

She cornered him, at one point. Xander, sweating and yet wearing a frozen smile, nodded as she told him all about her hobby of collecting rare crystals. Xander didn't think most of them were from this dimension. He always thought half what Selly said was some kind of innuendo he wasn't getting. Which was probably a good thing. Anya slid up next to him and, for the first time that night, he was relieved when she slid her arm into his.

"Oh, I've been to Markis," Anya said, her smile just a little brittle. "It's a lovely place. Well, if you like entrails."

Selly blinked at Anya and then smiled again, and it was even more brittle than Anya's. "Oh, you must be Anya. It's so nice to meet you." The way she drew out the word 'so' made it sound more like 'diediedie.' Xander swallowed hard. She turned her eyes back to Xander.

"So, you were raised here? Your mom was the one, then?" Selly smiled at him, politely waiting for an answer, but Xander just stared.

He should have thought about it before now. Why hadn't he thought about that before now? Shouldn't it have been his first thought? For him to be . . . His mother had to have . . . Well, okay, so that wasn't much different than now, but he wouldn't ever have thought she could . . . The revelation sent all the blood to Xander's head, making him feel dizzy.

"Oh, you've got white," Selly said, though she sounded more put out than worried.

"Xander? Are you okay?" Anya asked, squeezing his arm.

Xander blinked and then looked at Anya. "Yeah, yeah. I just . . . I hadn't thought about . . . My parents."

"But that's good news," Anya said, her face a little scrunched as if she didn't understand. "Isn't it? I mean, you always say you wish he wasn't your father and . . . He's not!" Anya said it like 'surprise' at a birthday party and Xander gave her a weak smile.

After that, everything just seemed to go on around him. Anya got rid of Selly, though Xander wasn't entirely sure how. All he could think was that his father wasn't his father and his mother . . . Well, he didn't really know her as well as he'd thought, either, did he? Why hadn't he thought about that? It bugged him, and kept bugging him. He couldn't get it off his mind.

"Xander?" Blinking, Xander found himself looking into Giles' slightly worried face. Xander's gut tightened.

"Huh?" Xander shook his head and sighed. "Oh, Giles, I'm . . . It's good that you came up here."

Giles nodded, but he wasn't really meeting Xander's eyes. It hurt, like something sharp in his stomach. Xander bit the inside of his lip, trying to keep himself together. "How are you? You looked . . . deep in thought."

Giles moved to stand next to him-- _easier to not look at me_ \--and leaned back against the wall. They were on the front porch of the biggest cabin, where all the residents seemed to gather. There were people all around, many of them listening with interest as Anya told some story or another.

"I don't know. Just so much to . . . think about." Xander glanced over and found Giles doing the same. He wasn't sure why he jerked his head, why he turned it forward so quickly, except that it felt somehow wrong to be stealing side looks at Giles. The weird thing was that if felt wrong because it _didn't_ feel wrong. He knew it should, and so he felt guilty, but it didn't, not deep down. Anya was just a few feet away, but it might as well have been miles and if felt _right_ to be standing there with Giles, to be stealing looks and talking . . . Xander felt a wave of dizziness and leaned harder on the wall behind him.

"Xander?" Giles' voice was worried again. Xander straightened, shaking himself a little, and turned to look at Giles.

"I just . . . I'm tired," Xander said, waving away the hand Giles had reached out toward him. Giles nodded, his hand dropping to his side with a speed usually only found in jet fighters. "Things still feel . . ." Xander shrugged, looking down at the drink in his hand. He didn't remember how he'd gotten it. "Giles, I'm sorry," he finally managed.

Giles shook his head, his voice low and soothing. "Whatever for?"

"For making you come this weekend. I know you didn't want to, and I . . . I just thought that if . . . I don't know. I'm just sorry." Xander sneaked a look up at Giles and what he saw there made his throat feel even tighter than his chest.

Giles was smiling at him. Not bright or huge, but a good smile, a really nice smile. "There's nothing to apologize for," he said and his voice seemed deep enough to drown in. Xander relaxed a little, feeling a little better. "Xander, I came here to help you. As long as my being here does that . . ." Giles shrugged, still smiling.

Xander smiled back, nodding. "It does. Thanks." He felt as if he should be squirming, should be uncomfortable, but that wasn't the case at all. He felt . . . right, for the first time in a while. Standing there, with Giles looking at him that way, even the air felt softer, more worn.

"Xander, I--"

"All right, the moon's going to rise soon," said a voice, cutting Giles off before he could get out whatever he was going to say.

Xander had to work to get himself to stop looking at Giles. He turned around and saw Steven motioning for everybody to go to the bonfire. It wasn't lit, yet, but it would be soon, Xander knew. Whatever it was, the ritual itself didn't take long and the bonfire was actually for afterwards, a little 'welcome to half-demonhood' party sort of thing.

"Okay," Steven said, grinning at him in the way that made Xander kinda feel like he was two years old. "You and I, and Anya and Giles if you want them to come along, should go and get this done. Exel's done all the prep work and he's ready when you are."

He made it sound like a hair cut. Xander took a deep breath. Anya had already slipped her arm in his and a quick glance at Giles got him a nod. Giles would come with him. "All right," Xander said, his tone making it sound like he was walking to his own funeral.

He followed Steven inside, to the room they'd set up. There was a circle just barely big enough for Xander to sit cross-legged in, and the air smelled thick with some incense Xander couldn't name. There were symbols over most of the floor and a narrow path of un-marked wood that let him walk into the circle. Exelpheus stood in one corner. Despite the fact that he looked worn out, he gave Xander a smile and nod that Xander thought was supposed to be reassuring.

Xander sat down in the circle and looked at Anya and Giles, who both stood in the doorway. They had reassuring looks on their faces, but it was the way Giles ran his eyes over the symbols on the floor, on the walls--and on the ceiling Xander noticed as he followed Giles' gaze--that helped Xander calm down the most. Giles knew about this stuff, right? Spells and demons, okay, half-demons, and that kind of thing?

Xander clung to that thought as Steven started chanting. Xander closed his eyes tight, calling himself an idiot for not asking the all important question: Is this going to hurt?

"Okay," said Steven, "Here's what I got--"

"That's it?" Xander opened his eyes, darting looks all around the room. Everything looked the same, except the markings on the floor and walls and ceiling had disappeared. Xander's eyes found Anya and Giles. Anya looked interested, but Giles was smiling at him.

"That's it," Steven said, smiling. "It's fairly easy, just a peek into another plane to get a really good, close look at your aura. Knowing how to read it is the hardest part." Steven nodded, but he, Giles, and Anya all almost collided in their bids to help him up. Xander stood on his own.

"But . . . But, all those symbols?" He motioned to the floor where they'd once been.

"Just for protection," Exelpheus answered. "It's a little dangerous, for the caster, to just stick his head out there into the hub of . . . Well, a bunch of realities."

Xander wobbled, reaching out a hand to steady himself as he felt dizzy and his stomach did a flip-flop. Someone grabbed his arm, helping him to stay standing, but Xander couldn't open his eyes because of the way the world had spun.

"Careful," said either Steven or Exelpheus, it was hard to tell with his eyes shut. "You may be a little dizzy. Happens sometimes, when you go poking at reality."

"Whoa." Xander swallowed a few times, and then cautiously opened one eye a little. When the world didn't spin he opened them both. Giles had a hold on his arm and Xander nodded a thank you before pulling away.

"Are you all right?" Anya asked. She had a hold on his other arm and her forehead was scrunched up.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Xander said, letting out the breath he'd been holding. He looked to Steven. "So?"

"Well, it was a little wobbly, but that happens sometimes. It looks as if you're half Grenvan." He nodded, still smiling. He would have made a great camp councilor, you know, if it wasn't for the skin and hair and fangs.

"Grenvan?" Xander didn't know if he'd read about them or not. Mostly, he remembered the things that later went nuts and started pulling people's arms off.

"Harmless," Giles said, catching his eye and smiling. "They inhabit a different plane, most of the time, but occasionally come here for the beer."

"Beer?" Xander blinked, trying to wrap his mind around all of this. Harmless was good. He could live with harmless.

"They have a strange love for the stuff," Giles said with a shrug. "Hops won't grow in lava ash."

"Okay." Xander looked at Anya.

"They're quite nice, actually." Anya smile was bright, but genuine. "I once met one who ran a bar in Finland. Very sweet man."

"Right. So, no . . . horns or . . . anything?" Xander suddenly felt exhausted. He'd been dreading this for a week and now it was over and he just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep.

"Well," Steven said, stretching the word out, "with Grenvan's the only thing you have to worry about is a tail, and if you didn't have that at birth--"

"Skateboard," Xander told Anya, before she could even say anything.

"--than you've got nothing to worry about."

Anya grinned at him and Xander tried to muster up a smile. His insides still seemed to be quivering and he was so damn tired. He let Anya pull him out toward the bonfire, but he soon slipped away and sat on the edge of the porch. Anya came to sit next to him, but she kept staring out at the party.

"You can go, if you want," Xander said, reaching out to pat her hand. "I'm going to go back to the camp. Get some sleep. I feel . . . Well, having it over, I'm just kinda exhausted now."

"If you want, I can come with you." She gave him a sad little smile. Xander felt the guilt rise up, eating at his inside. He'd wanted to tell her so many times over the last week. The problem was, he wasn't sure what he wanted to tell her. About the thing with Giles, about the thing with guys in general, about the thing where he didn't know if he wanted to be with her anymore?

He should have told her. Instead he said, "That's okay. Stay and have fun. I'm gonna go get some sleep."

She nodded, giving him a sad look. Xander felt awful as he stood up and headed for the trail. It was and the residents had lit it with battery-operated tiki torches. Xander didn't bother to hurry; instead he ambled along, trying to sort out the rolling feelings sliding through him.

The woods were kinda spooky, but someone had still put in little spots to rest along the walk. Probably because it might have been pretty, during the day. A few drops of rain landed on Xander's face, and he picked up the pace, hoping to get to the tent before he got soaked.

He ran into Giles, who was doing the same. Literally ran into him. They grabbed one another, both steadying themselves. It wasn't until he was fully balanced that Xander realized who it was he'd grabbed. Giles' forearms were under his fingers, and a shirt, but Xander could still feel the warmth of them. Giles always seemed warm.

"Hi," he said, mostly because he didn't know what else to say and the silence was starting to drag on. "Where did you come from?"

Giles nodded back toward the woods and Xander saw that a path opened out onto this one. "I was going for a walk and I felt rain." Neither of them had let go of the other.

"Giles," Xander finally said, though he had to pause to suck in a deep breath before he could continue. "Look, I know things have been pretty crazy, and I hope . . . It just seems like you've been avoiding me, and I get that, I do, but . . ." _But, what? What can I say to him? What if he doesn't . . . Oh, crap._

Giles sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he said, softly. "We-We need to discuss things, you and I." His voice was sad and a little hoarse and Xander hate the way it sounded. "We can't let this . . . this strain between us continue."

It was starting to rain for real now, big drops of it landing on Xander's face. He didn't particularly care, though. In fact, just then, the only thing he could concentrate on was the drop of water sliding along Giles' upper lip. He couldn't take his eyes off of it. He felt dizzy again, but only for a heartbeat, and then he was leaning in. His tongue, apparently having developed a mind of its own, licked along Giles' lips. Giles' hands, still on Xander's forearms, squeezed tight, hard. Xander groaned and suddenly Giles' lips were pressed tight against his own, their body working to occupy the same space. Xander felt Giles' hips roll against his and he opened his mouth to groan, but never got the chance.

The kiss felt like heaven, like everything in the world had just clicked into its exact position. Xander thought he actually heard it all snap into place. His stomach tightened, and for once it felt good. His nerves were singing with the feel of Giles' tongue sweeping into his mouth, Giles' teeth grating over his lips, the prickle of Giles' stubble under his hands. It washed over him, a wave of dizziness and _rightness_ sweeping from his head to his toes and back again, until Xander thought he might pass out from it.

"Xander?" Anya's voice was like ice down his back. Giles and Xander leapt apart, both of them nearly slipping in the newly made mud.

"Oh, God," Xander said, turning toward Anya before he'd completely caught his balance. He steadied himself, staring, wide-eyed, at Anya. Anya took a stumbling step backwards and Xander found himself moving toward her, one hand stretching toward her.

"Oh, God, Anya, I'm sorry . . . I just . . ." Xander shook his head. "God, I should have said something, but . . . I kept imagining . . ."

The look on Anya's face made him want to run away, to turn and lose himself in the woods and pretend this had never happened. He glanced back and saw Giles' face, just as pain filled, but also lined with guilt. It made him stay, kept his feet rooted to the ground. He couldn't leave Giles to face this all by himself. It wasn't even Giles' fault.

"You did it again," Anya shouted, her folded hands coming down from her mouth, revealing the pained 'o' of her lips as she darted a look from Xander to Giles and back again. "If it were someone different . . . I mean, then it might be me, right? But you . . ."

"Anya, what are you saying?" Giles looked as if he had as little idea as Xander did. He stepped forward, his eyes focused on Anya. Though Xander knew Giles had come closer because of Anya, he still felt somehow reassured by Giles' presence at his back. He could feel the heat of Giles' body, radiating toward him, feel Giles standing less than a foot away. It helped, though Xander didn't think he could have explained how.

"Again?" Xander finally managed. "But, Anya, I swear, Giles and I didn't ever . . . I mean, we . . ." Still, there were no words. There was only Anya and Giles, Anya standing there, her body shaking with things Xander probably couldn't even guess at. Well, anger, obviously, and hurt and . . . Giles was a still, solid presence at his back, but one glance at Giles' face was enough to tell Xander that 'comfort' wasn't a word that could be applied to either of them.

"No," Anya said, her face twisting for a moment into a more common annoyance, rather than pain. It hurt even worse, seeing that expression. He knew it. He'd seen it a hundred thousand times. He'd even thought it was cute once or twice, and now, with the rain pouring down all around them and Anya shaking and all of them getting soaked, it hit Xander like a blow to the gut. "You did this. I . . ." She shook her head hard and Xander couldn't tell if it were rain or tears that slid down her face.

"Anya, please," Giles said, his voice low. Xander could hear it just fine, but he wasn't sure that Anya had until her eyes flicked to Giles. The anger there didn't lessen; the fire didn't bank, but instead blazed. "Let's go back to the camp, to the common building, and talk about this. I know . . . God, I know how angry you must be, and you have every right, but you're shaking and it's cold here . . . Let's go inside."

"Go inside?" she shouted, anger taking the place of sorrow on her face, though only for a few heartbeats. Then they blended together, neither more present than the other. She looked torn, her eyes red and her whole body trembling. "You want to talk about this? Tell me why you keep doing this to me! Xander, why?"

Her eyes moved to him and Xander stood frozen in her gaze, no words coming into his mind at all. His heart pounded in his chest, squeezed tight with the pain so clearly written on Anya's features.

"Keep doing this?" Giles was the one to ask. Just then Xander really couldn't have remembered his own name if someone had asked. He'd done it again. He'd seen that look on Cordelia's face, and then she'd ran. He remembered looking down at her, through the stairs, seeing her laying there with metal shoved up through her stomach. And now Anya was looking at him that same way, so much pain in one face. He couldn't find words, could barely breath at all.

"Anya, you act as if this has happened before," Giles was saying. "While . . . I will admit that Xander and I . . . Anya, we haven't been carrying on behind your back, I promise you that."

Anya made a wordless sound that Xander wasn't sure how to name. There was disbelief in it, but also something like a sob that had him moving forward, though the look she gave him made him stop dead in his tracks.

Xander stepped closer, his hand still reaching out toward Anya. He couldn't help but fear she'd run away. His mind kept conjuring up pictures of her lying in a ditch she hadn't seen in the dark. "Giles is right. We should go inside--"

Anya made another sound, frustration boiling its way to the surface. She looked Xander right in eye and Xander felt like the lowest slime that ever oozed. Then she turned and started to walk away. Xander moved then, actually moved more than step. He reached out, taking her arm in a loose grip. Anya barely turned at all as she jerked her arm away and kept walking. She was heading back toward the cabins, which was something, at least. The path there was easy and Xander didn't worry about her getting hurt along the way.


	5. Chapter 5

Giles stood watching Xander for a long time, even after Anya had disappeared from view. He stepped closer to Xander, until he stood just behind him, but Giles couldn't bring himself to reach out, to interrupt whatever reverie Xander had sunk into. He wanted to offer comfort, to say something, but in the end, what could he really say? He'd been too busy trying to run away from his attraction to Xander to think beyond it. He should have forced the issue with Xander, said something.

Now, Giles could all too easily imagine what Xander was going through, but he couldn't do a damn thing about it. So, he offered what support he could, standing there with the rain washing over them both, keeping silent so that Xander could think.

Then, after what seemed ages, Xander finally turned to him. The look on his face made Giles' gut tighten, made his jaw clench. Xander looked up at him for a long moment and Giles had no idea what to do, let alone say.

Xander remained, apparently, just as speechless. He stared for a long moment and then walked away, his shoulder brushing along Giles' as he moved past him, onto the path that led into the woods. Giles turned with him, reaching out and then letting his hand drop.

"Xander."

Xander stopped, but didn't turn around. His back was arrow straight, the muscles tight and tense "I just . . . I need some time, okay? I'll come back. I just . . . I really can't be here right now."

Giles didn't say anything and Xander must have taken that for agreement, or perhaps he didn't want agreement. Either way, Xander walked off into the rain as well, leaving Giles standing there, soaked to the skin and alone.

He glanced back toward the cabins. Anya would be back there and Giles wasn't even sure he could face her. Sighing to himself, Giles started up the path. There wasn't anything he could say to Anya that would make this easier. He knew that. Still, something drove him to try.

By the time he'd made it back to cabins, not only soaked, but mud-covered as well, Anya was gone. She'd asked one of the residents to drive her to some place she could get a hotel room. She'd left a letter for Xander, which Steven gave Giles to give to him. Entirely unsure how to feel about that, Giles went back to camp. He laid the letter on the kitchen table and retrieved a change of clothes. He took as hot a shower as the clapped-out pipes could provide. Strangely, he didn't feel any warmer. He did curse when he realized he didn't have anything to keep the rain off as he hurried back to his tent and decided to run for the common building and then use his coat to get to his tent.

The letter on the kitchen table caught his eye. She'd written his name on the envelope in bold, angry letters. He knew that, whatever it said, it was absolutely none of his business. He didn't even consider opening it, but he did stare at it for a long moment before he went to his tent.

A tent was not a satisfactory place for retreat. He had only one book, nothing to drink, and only a flashlight by which to read in the first place. He did attempt it, but finally gave up, setting aside his book and turning off his flashlight and settling in to listen for Xander's return. His stomach was tight and clenched tighter as he remembered the anguished looks on both Xander's and Anya's faces. While he knew that it wasn't his fault in the specific sense, it wasn't as if he'd encouraged Xander or as if they'd been having an affair, he still felt guilty.

He should have forced the issue with Xander, should have put aside his own feelings and brought it up. Giles re-settled himself, firmly telling himself that he was not squirming, and then sat up straighter when he realized there was more light, most of it filtering through his tent from the lights inside the common building.

Giles ducked and shuffled his way out of the tent, glad to see that he'd been right and there was someone moving around in there. There weren't any other campers and the residents wouldn't have any reason to come here in the middle of the night. At least, he didn't think they would, but there was only one way to know for sure.

He felt sheepish as he opened the screen door. The other had been left open and Giles didn't bother with it as he went toward the kitchen, where the faint noises of someone moving around could be heard. A glance inside showed that it was, indeed, Xander. He was still soaking wet, dripping, in fact. The tile floor showed a trail of water droplets and Giles was reminded of the night when everything had changed, when he'd found Xander standing, soaking, on his doorstep.

"Xander?" he said softly. Despite that, Xander startled, turning a quick glance over his shoulder. It was then that Giles realized what Xander had been doing. He caught a glimpse of the letter in Xander's hands, and his eyes were wet. Xander looked away almost at once, folding the letter up. He made to shove it into his shirt pocket, but seemed to realize that his clothing was too wet for that, and instead shoved it back into the envelope and let it lay on the table. "I'll leave you be, if you like . . ."

Giles didn't think he sounded quite as casual as he'd been meaning to. In fact, he feared his own feelings had tumbled out, making it clear that he didn't want to leave Xander alone at all.

Xander shrugged, but didn't look over his shoulder as he spoke. "It's not my kitchen. Free for all to use."

Giles gave a small, inaudible sigh and then moved to the sink, leaning against it so that he could look Xander in the eye, but still give him some space. "If you need to talk--"

"No," Xander said, giving a snort and finally look up to Giles' face. His voice was a dry croak, probably the only dry thing about him, at the moment. "The time for that would have been . . . Oh, any time before Anya found us making out would have probably been good." Xander looked away again, his throat working as he swallowed.

"Xander, I'm so sorry," Giles began, only to have Xander's head snap up and Xander's eyes fix on him.

"This isn't your fault," Xander said, though his voice sounded too sharp to be comforting. In fact, he looked angry as he snatched the bread off the top of the refrigerator and reached inside for the mayonnaise and several packages of lunchmeat. "You know," he continued, grabbing a butter knife out of the drawer and used it to smear mayonnaise onto his bread. Giles had never seen that simple action done with such jerky, angry motions. "Despite everything that's happened in the last few hours to prove me wrong, I am kinda a grown up, now."

Giles' eyes had been stuck on the scrape of knife over bread and by the time he looked up, blinking, to reply, Xander had moved on without him.

"I mean, okay, so I handled this . . . Yeah, 'badly' doesn't even start to cover it. But it was my thing to handle. My girlfriend, my big changes, my . . . thing. And you keep saying you're sorry . . ." Xander shook his head.

"I could have forced the issue--"

"It's not your issue." Xander snapped and Giles straightened away from the sink, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's not entirely true," he finally said, when only the sound of meat being slapped onto bread filled the silence. "You can't say I wasn't at all involved in this."

"I'm not," Xander said on a sigh, his shoulders slumping. "I'm just . . . You kinda think that we'd all be dead in a week if you weren't here, and in my case you're probably right, but we're not . . . We're not just kids, Giles." Xander turned around then, his eyes hard. "I'm not just some big dumb kid who needs you to handle everything for him."

"If I saw you that way, Xander, there wouldn't have been anything to tell Anya about," Giles replied, trying to keep his voice low and somewhat rational. He understood that Xander was upset, and he didn't want to make matters worse by getting self-righteous. The last thing either of them needed was another argument tonight.

"Exactly!" Xander said, somewhere between triumphant and angry. "You just did it again. I really . . . Giles, I . . ." Xander shook his head, turning back to his sandwich as he muttered, "I like you a lot, and . . ." again, his throat worked, as if trying to swallow the words even as Xander tried to speak them, "I'm really attracted to you . . . But, this would have happened sooner or later anyway. I would have had to talk to Anya one way or the other and I . . . I blew it. I just . . ." Xander seemed to drift then. He stopped speaking, stopped beating his sandwich into submission. "God, the look on her face. Why do I keep _doing_ this?"

Giles felt his forehead wrinkle. "Keep? Why do both you and Anya act as if this has happened before?" That cold feeling was back in Giles' stomach. He suddenly had the feeling he was stuck inside a play and didn't know his lines.

"What?" Xander looked at him then, genuinely confused. "I was talking about . . . Cordelia, about . . . Willow. I didn't . . ." he shook his head, staring at the kitchen wall with a far away look. "I have no idea what Anya was talking about, but . . . She's pretty mad." Xander's eyes drifted toward the letter she'd left him.

"Cordelia. Of course." Giles had to swallow several times before he could get the next words out. "Uh, are you . . . Xander, are you sure that your . . . attraction to me isn't more about some worry that . . . Well, that things between you and Anya were getting more serious?" The words burned his mouth, leaving behind an acrid taste.

"I don't know," Xander said, the words sounding hollow. He turned, shaking his head. "I'm going to bed. Uh, I'll . . . I'll see you tomorrow."

"Xander, your sandwich," was all Giles could think to say. There were other things, all crowding his mind and jockeying for position on his tongue, but Giles couldn't bring himself to say any of them, just then.

"Huh?" Xander gave him a confused look and then glance down to the table, as if just realizing that he'd been making a sandwich. "Right." He sighed, grabbing napkins from the holder at the table's center. He wrapped up the sandwich and stuck it in the refrigerator. "I'll eat it in the morning. I'm not really hungry tonight." He spoke without looking up at all, and then he turned and trudged out, still soaking wet, though he didn't seem to notice.

Giles let him go. Well, really, what else could he do? Xander needed time to think and Giles . . . he wasn't sure what he needed, but he had the terrible feeling that it had just walked out the door for good.

Closing his eyes, he shook his head at himself and set about cleaning up the mess Xander had made. That done, and nothing left to distract him, and Giles considered going back to his tent. He glanced out the window above the sink, looking toward where his and Xander's tents would be, but it was too dark to see anything.

The thought of going out there, of lying there, with Xander only several feet and two tent walls away, it felt too heavy to bear. Instead, Giles grabbed a book at random off the small shelf in the corner and settled himself on the couch. It wasn't long before he gave up reading again, having gone over the same paragraph several times. He couldn't concentrate. And he still wasn't entirely sure what a 'muggle' was.

The next thing he knew, the sun was in his eyes. It was early, the day still trapped in the time of morning when everything seems delicate. The couch had become distinctly uncomfortable and a spring was poking Giles in the arse. Giles stumbled to the bathroom and then back into the kitchen, trying to decide whether he was up or if he had another few hours of sleep in him.

A glance out the kitchen window revealed that, if he did have sleep left in him, he'd be doing it on the couch. His tent, Xander's tent, everything, was all packed away into Xander's car.

"You're awake," Xander said from behind him. Giles turned, noting that Xander had certainly had a shower since last night. Though, he looked as if he hadn't slept at all, which really made it no surprise that things had gotten done so early.

"Apparently," Giles agreed, glancing again out to where his tent used to be.

"I, uh, figured it was best to get an early start," Xander didn't look at him any more than absolutely necessary. Giles didn't know whether Xander was still angry, or whether it was something else, but suddenly he felt more tired than he'd been in a long time.

"That's fine."

"I want to stop and check if Anya is still at that hotel and . . . And offer her a ride. I mean, I know it won't make things comfortable on the way home, but . . . I can't just leave her out here."

"Xander, I understand," Giles said, though mostly because he just wanted the conversation over with. He wasn't looking forward to a ride back to Sunnydale with Anya--he found it all too easy to imagine the frosty silence--but offering it was the only thing to do. Giles tried to quash the part of himself that fervently hoped she'd refuse.

"I left your duffle bag out, on the passenger seat, so you could shave and stuff." Xander still wouldn't look at him, apparently the effort of getting his sandwich out of the refrigerator taking up all his concentration. "But I'd like to get moving soon, you know?"

"I'll be ready shortly," Giles said, unable to keep the stiff tone from his voice. It wasn't so much Xander's manner that had put it there, but Giles' knowing that things had changed between them, perhaps irrevocably. This, the awkward way Xander acted toward him, had been one of the things he'd feared about their mutual attraction coming to the surface. The thought that Xander might always feel that way, might never see him as a friend again, let alone anything more, it hurt and Giles couldn't seem to think around it at the moment.

Giles had to push himself to hurry, his sub-conscious wanting to put off the three hour drive back to Sunnydale for as long as humanly possible. Even if Anya did refuse Xander's offer of a ride, Giles simply couldn't imagine it being pleasant. Especially not with Xander barely able to look at him.

**\--Xander--**

Xander sat in the car, waiting for Giles to stow his duffle back in the trunk. Xander couldn't keep his eyes from darting to the side view mirror. He told himself to stop it, but every time he glanced up his eyes just slid right to it. He'd catch a glimpse of Giles as the man moved around, trying to shove his bag into the already full trunk, a glimpse of an arm as Giles braced himself, or a glimpse of his ass as he moved to the side of the trunk to tuck the bag in better.

It was stupid. Xander knew that, and if he hadn't, the surge of guilt would have been enough to tell him so. Still, his eyes kept finding their way back to the little mirror, until the trunk shut hard, shaking the car a little. Then Xander pretended he'd actually been flipping through his magazine and not craning his neck at all.

Giles opened the door and slipped into the passenger seat, pulling the seat belt around himself. "Well, I think it's wedged in there properly. The trunk closed, so it can't be all that bad."

"Right," Xander said, flipping the magazine over his shoulder into the backseat. "Let's get this train wreck started." He hadn't actually meant to say that, but his mouth had been open at the same time his brain was working and it had tumbled out. He saw Giles flinch out of the corner of his eye and he had the intense urge to apologize, but apologizing would lead to talking and talking would lead to . . . Well, Xander didn't know what it would lead to and, for once, he was trying really hard not to say things he hadn't actually thought through first. _Yeah, you're doing great with that,_ he told himself, unsure when that voice in his head had started to sound so bitter.

He managed to start the car without saying anything. The silence hung between them, irritating and just plain wrong, but Xander stubbornly kept his mouth shut, aiming his car in the right direction and letting the driving take up all his concentration. Well, almost all of his concentration. There was still that little part of him that was flailing with all the thoughts that jumped through his brain.

There were pictures, too. Anya's face, mostly, but Giles', too. Xander wasn't so oblivious that he didn't notice the sidelong glances Giles kept giving him, the worry that Giles probably didn't mean for him to see. It was kinda obvious, though, when you knew what to look for.

That thought surprised him. When had he gotten so good at 'Giles Looks 101?' Xander didn't realize the light had changed from red to green until Giles cleared his throat.

"What?" Xander asked, starting from his thoughts. For the first time that morning, Xander looked Giles full in the face.

"The light," Giles said, his voice low. Xander had to force himself to look back to the road, to the light dangling ahead of them. It took him a heartbeat longer than it should have to realize he was supposed to go.

"Right. Uh, thanks." The word sounded strange, sounded wrong. Like he should be saying something else, or a lot of 'something else's. Unfortunately, Xander had no idea what those were, at least not yet. What he did know, the only thing that he felt sure of, was that if he said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing now, it might screw up everything. He had to think, because he couldn't stand the thought of screwing up the rest of his life, yet again. He had to think before he let himself talk, or he ran the risk of making the same mistakes he always made. He couldn't face that possibility, and really that was the only thing that kept his mouth shut.

_For the first time in history,_ he thought to himself in that same bitter voice,  </i>I'm going to do things right. I'm going to think this through.</i> Xander tried very hard not to listen to the little voice in the back of his head that whispered that that wasn't possible.

The hotel Anya had chosen was fairly easy to find. Not only was it the only one in the small town, but it was also on the main drag through town and had a large neon sign out front that flashed 'acancy' at them as Xander parked in the little lot.

Xander groaned and let his head fall forward onto the steering wheel. "Owie," he said, he voice muffled by said steering wheel. "That hurt more than I thought it would."

Xander thought he heard a soft snort of laughter from Giles, which meant he couldn't look up for a minute, because he had to wipe the smile off his face, first. Giles made things easier when he undid his seatbelt and opened his door.

"Why don't I move things around, to fit Anya's things in, while you find her?" Giles' tone was low, but otherwise it was the most normal he'd sounded since last night.

Xander nodded, pulling the keys out of the ignition and handing them out to Giles. Xander glanced up as the keys left his hand, but Giles was already heading back to rearrange things in the trunk.

Obviously, Anya's letter hadn't mentioned what room she'd been in, so Xander went to the little office tucked into one point of the 'u' shaped motel building. An older man sat behind the desk, absorbed in some book. He looked up with tired eyes as Xander said, "Hi."

"Hi." The guy didn't say anything else, just looked at Xander, patiently waiting for whatever Xander would say.

"I'm looking for a woman," Xander started, pretty annoyed when the older man leered. "A _specific_ woman. She probably checked in late last night. Blonde, about this tall, very angry?" Somehow, Xander wasn't at all surprised when recognition appeared on the man's face after the last bit.

"Right, right. Yeah, I remember her. I . . . I can't just give out her room number," the guy said, though he looked a little apologetic. Or maybe he just wanted to see if Xander would offer money. If it was a movie, that's what he would have wanted.

_Nope, not a movie,_ said the voice in the back of Xander's head,  </i>Just your screwed up life.</i>

"Uh, right. Can you . . . " Xander glanced back out of the office, through the large windows that made up the walls, and found Giles leaning back against the trunk, his hands in his pockets and his head down as he waited. Xander forgot whatever words he'd been thinking a minute before.

"Can I what?" the guy asked, still in that tired, patient voice.

"Uh," Xander shook his head, his eyes snapping back to the counter-guy. "Call her room? Tell her I'm here?"

The guy shrugged and nodded, picking up the phone. He used his hand to shield the number pad from Xander's eyes and Xander didn't know what to think about that. On the one had, yay for cheap motels protecting their customer's privacy. On the other hand, Xander really wanted to get this over with, wanted to be back in Sunnydale, where he might actually be able to think. Or, okay, might be able to flop down on Willow's bed and whine until she asked him leading questions and made the thinking easier. You know, whichever.

The sound of a sharp voice on the other side of the phone line drew Xander's attention back to the counter-guy.

"Oh, sorry, it's just there's someone here for you. Uh . . . I don't know." The guy covered the bottom of the receiver and glanced up at Xander. "What's your name?"

"Xander Harris." Even Xander could hear the tired in his own voice.

"Right." The guy uncovered the receiver. "Xander--right. Okay . . . Sure I can." Counter-guy covered the receiver again. "She's giving me a message for you."

Xander felt an eyebrow rise, but he just shoved his hands into his pockets and tried not to cringe at the thought of the kind of message Anya might have for him.

"Pond scum," the guy said, nodding and listening intently. Xander could hear Anya through the phone, though he couldn't make out her words. "Painful death. Right." The guy kept nodding, as if these were the kind of messages he gave every day. Then his jaw dropped, which kinda made the guy look like a turtle that had just seen a dancing squid. "Uh, you should . . . Well, that's probably something you want to say to him yourself."

Xander blinked as the counter-guy sent him a sidelong glance. He listened to something else that Anya said and then hung up the phone, and then he looked up at Xander, not meeting his eyes. "She's coming down."

Xander thought he probably went pale. His mouth definitely went dry, and he only barely managed to croak out, "Great. I'll just, wait outside." Counter-guy ignored him as Xander walked out of the office, scanning the building for Anya.

Anya marched down the stairs from a room on the second floor. The metal stairs vibrated under her feet and her expression made Xander think of thunderclouds. She stomped to a stop directly in front of him, her face expectant. Xander found that--for once--his brain didn't have any words. That didn't stop his mouth from trying: it flopped open and closed several times, despite the fact that nothing at all was coming out.

"Well?" Anya said, and her asking only seemed to make her angrier. Her hands came up to rest on her hips. "You called me all the way down here, Xander, I assumed you had something to say."

If anything, Xander's mind was blanker than it had been a moment ago. Now, his mouth even seemed paralyzed. He managed to open it, but nothing came out, and before he could think of anything, Anya spoke again.

"Not that it will matter. I've already decided that I can't take you back."

"Uh . . ." Xander could feel his hair sweating, feel it running down his neck. "Anya, I'm--I'm sorry." His stomach clenched tight and the words seemed too small, too ordinary, for the weight of the guilt that pushed on him, and the hurt he could see in Anya's eyes. "I do care about you, but . . ." and there Xander's brain gave out on him. He knew, in a way, what he meant, but it was all feeling, all part of the emotions roiling around in his gut. He didn't know how to turn that into words.

"But you care more about him?" Anya gestured jerkily to where Giles leaned against the trunk of the car--trying to pretend he couldn't hear if the hunched set of his shoulders was any indication. Xander was Giles flinch, though.

Xander's brain was blank again.

"I don't know," he finally said, knowing that, even if Giles wasn't looking, he was listening. Suddenly, Xander felt twice as bad as he had just a few minutes ago. "That's not the point, though," he finally said. "It's not about Giles. Ahn, it's . . . it's . . ." Xander waved his hands, as if that would somehow explain what he meant.

Anya just stared, her face scrunched up as if she was trying to guess. She shook her head, frustration clear when she spoke. "What are you trying to say? I know it's something to do with Giles, otherwise you wouldn't keep choosing him over me! Xander, if it's that you're gay, just say that! Just . . . I don't understand why you couldn't say that! What you had to go behind my back! Again!"

From the corner of his eye, Xander saw Giles straighten away from the car. He wasn't the only one listening, either. Counter-guy was standing up, practically leaning over the counter in order to hear. Even some of the room doors were cracked and Xander could imagine the faces looking out at them.

"Can we talk about this, quietly, somewhere else?" He finally asked, giving Anya a pleading look.

Anya huffed, but nodded. "Fine," she bit out, "we can go over there." Anya nodded to the side of the building. Xander would have preferred going up to her room, but it was better than standing out in the parking lot.

He shot an apologetic look at Giles, and then followed Anya around the side of the building. She turned around, her hands going back to her hips. "Well?"

Xander had to work to get words out in the face of Anya's . . . Well, face. It was hard to look at her and say anything, let alone what he had to say. "It's not Giles," he managed, feeling as if all the energy had been wrung out of him. Even his thoughts sounded tired. "It's not me being gay, I'm . . . I don't know, but that's not the point either. And, it's not you. I know how corny it sounds," he said, holding up a hand to keep Anya from interrupting him, "but it's me. I don't know what I want, or . . . anything, but . . . I know we're . . . God, I hate this, but it's not going to be us, Ahn. I just . . . I like you, I care, but . . ."

"You don't . . . You don't love me?" she asked, her voice small and high. There were tears shining in Anya's eyes and Xander wished he hadn't come here, that he'd just driven back to Sunnydale. Even if that did make him a coward. If he'd imagined the look Anya was wearing, if he'd have been able to see it clearly in his head, he wouldn't have stopped.

Xander couldn't have made his mouth work if he'd wanted to, let alone get his brain to formulate words. All he could manage was a head shake.

"I hate you, Xander Harris," Anya bit out, though it wasn't anger he saw on her face. "If I had my power back . . ." He knew she was trying to sound threatening--and it wasn't that he couldn't imagine what she would do if she did get her powers back--but he knew her too well.

Her chin was high, her eyes bright, and her voice just the slightest bit wobbly. Xander wanted to reach out, to put a hand on her shoulder like he'd done when she'd found out about Darth Vader. He doubted that was smart, though, doubted she would welcome his trying to comfort her when he was the one who'd caused the hurt in the first place.

"Believe me," Xander said, his voice shaky, though most of that came from trying to inject some humor into his tone. "I live in fear of the day you get your powers back." The humor dropped away as Anya raised her head just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the red tear tracks on her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I really am. I probably deserve it, after not telling you . . . I'm sorry."

"I'm not going to curse you, Xander," Anya finally said. She met his gaze and shrugged. "I already did, anyway."

"What?!" Xander's head shot up, his mind filling with images of boils and exploding body parts. He actually glanced down to make sure his intestines were still on the inside. "What curse?" he asked, his eyes wild.

Anya blinked at him and then shook her head. "The demon?" she said, her voice soft and her eyes wide with worry. "I just . . . I didn't mean for it to happen." Her voice sounded as watery as her eyes looked.

Xander shook his head, feeling his forehead furrow as he tried to understand what she was saying.

Anya's face scrunched up again and she'd started ringing her hands. Xander's brain had started to wrap itself around what she'd said, but he couldn't seem to believe it. His mouth was doing that 'moving despite not having words' thing again.

"I didn't mean--I wished you knew how I felt," she said, the words rushing out of her mouth so fast that Xander felt dizzy just hearing them. "Being on the outside of everything, with everything being so . . . human. I . . . A friend, a vengeance demon friend, took me out for drinks." Anya was pacing now, just a few steps to either side, her face still scrunched in on itself. "I was tipsy and . . . and I wasn't thinking and . . . I did that with hundreds of women over the centuries, got them to talk about it, but I didn't think!" she flung her hands out, as if to indicate the whole mess, her eyes finally slipping back to Xander's. "Everything turned back a few months and I-I wanted to tell you, but . . . But you were still with me and everything seemed to be going so well and I didn't want it all to fall apart again. I thought I could make it different this time."

"Again," Xander said, his voice weak even in his own ears. He was staring at the wall behind Anya, feeling as if someone had reached in and scooped out his insides.

_They did,_ said some sadistic voice in his head. _And replaced them with demon bits._

Xander could feel his mouth flopping, and Anya was looking at him in the hunched-in kind of way that let him know she expected him to be angry. He was. Or, at least, he thought he should be. Of course he should be. She'd _changed_ him. She knew what vengeance demons did, and still . . . But he just kept hearing her say that she'd wanted him to know how she felt.

_Being on the outside of everything, with everything being so . . . human._

Though he had the definite sense that he was really, really angry, he just couldn't seem to _feel_ it. He just felt tired beyond telling, and sad, especially seeing the tears stuck in Anya's eyelashes.

"I . . ." he shook his head. "I can't believe you did that to me," he managed. And that was true. He'd never really believed she'd curse him, no matter what he'd said. He might have worried about it, momentarily, but he'd never _really_ believed she'd go through with it.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking up at him and sighing heavily. "But it's over now. I . . ." Anya shook her head and turned, walking back toward the parking lot. "I'll rent a car to get back to Sunnydale," she said. "I don't know if I'll be staying, now . . . So, tell Giles I won't be in at the Magic Box."

Xander wanted to reach out, to tell Anya . . . Well, that was the problem, wasn't it? He had no idea what to tell Anya. He was mad--or would be, once it sunk it--but he also still felt guilty for what he'd done. He thought he should say something, though. "Okay." It sounded choked even to him. Anya paused for a second, but then ducked her head and walked faster, disappearing around the corner.

Xander stood there for a long moment, staring at the gravel.


	6. Chapter 6

**\--Giles--**

Giles saw Anya come out from around the corner and head back to her room, but he didn't think it was a good idea to say anything, at least not until he'd found out from Xander how it had gone. He leaned against the trunk of Xander's car, his hands shoved into his pockets. Just then he rather wished he had something else to do with them; something else to do in general.

His mind was heavy with thinking about it all. He still couldn't tell how Xander felt, about Anya, about them, about anything. In truth, he wasn't sure how he felt either. There was guilt, of course, because Anya hadn't deserved to have them making eyes at one another behind her back. And if he knew, really knew, that Xander wanted to be with him, he'd have welcomed a relationship with the young man, but . . . After everything that had happened, that he'd heard, Giles wasn't sure he could really know that.

Xander came around the corner, just when Giles was beginning to think he should go and check on him. He looked . . . Giles couldn't decide on that. Xander seemed too blank, and Giles wasn't sure what that meant.

"She's going to rent a car," he finally said, stopping just a little in front of Giles. His head was down, not meeting Giles' gaze.

"Then we should . . ." Giles gestured to the car, resisting the urge to ducked down until he could see Xander's eyes.

"Yeah." Xander glanced over to the room from which Anya had come, and then he sighed. Giles wanted to reach out a hand, but he wasn't sure of his welcome and he didn't want Xander to think he was pushing. "Do you mind if we get breakfast on the road?" Xander asked, turning and heading for the driver's door.

Giles sighed to himself, heading back to the passenger's seat. He caught a glance at the desk clerk, who was still watching them. Giles gave the man a glare before he slid into the car.

The drive back to Sunnydale was something akin to hell. Giles didn't want to interrupt Xander's thoughts-- _Admit it, you're more afraid of what he'll say if you do._ \--and Xander didn't seem inclined to share. Breakfast was fast food, which Giles barely touched, mostly because he kept glancing over at Xander, wondering how he could drive with one hand full of breakfast sandwich. By the time he turned his concentration to his own food, it was cold and even more unappetizing.

He thought about trying to sleep, but he didn't want to leave Xander thoughtful and, basically, alone. He wanted to be awake if Xander did decide he wanted to talk. Xander kept up the minimum of conversation. Occasionally, asking if the radio station was all right, or asking how Giles' meal was. Giles gave monosyllabic answers, unsure what else to say, or whether Xander would even hear it if he said more.

It was almost a relief when, finally, they pulled up to the curb in front of Giles' flat. Xander parked the car, but didn't move to get out and Giles wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't just leave, not without saying something.

"I'm sorry," Xander said before the words--the exact same words--had a chance to make it off Giles' tongue. "I know this weekend has been . . . Kinda hell, similar, anyway, with the demons, but . . . I'm just sorry."

Giles nodded. "As am I . . . The other night, I--"

"Don't," Xander said, his face going worryingly blank. "You've got nothing to apologize for, okay? I did stupid things, and you were near me at the time, but they're not really your stupid things, so just . . ." Xander shook his head, which didn't making his feelings any more clear. Well, except for the fact that he didn't want to talk about it.

Giles hated leaving things this way, hated not knowing what was happening between them. Still, he wasn't about to force Xander into a discussion that could only end badly, at this point. Time, he hoped, would help Xander sort things out and Giles would be patient.

"I'll see you soon," Giles said, even though he wasn't entirely sure it was true.

"Sure. I'll probably . . . Oh, uh, Anya's not going to be showing for work . . ." Xander gave Giles an apologetic smile. It was small, weak expression, but the first smile Giles had seen on Xander's face all day, and therefore reassuring.

"I had guessed," Giles replied, his hand moving to the release handle on the car door. He didn't particularly want to go, either. Mentally rolling his eyes at himself, Giles straightened. "I'll see you soon," he repeated.

He felt a little bit better when Xander said, "Tomorrow."

Giles got out of the car and waited for Xander to pop the trunk. He kept glancing at the back of Xander's head, calling himself a fool in every one of the languages he knew. Xander waved to him as Giles headed toward his flat.

It was a relief to be home. Not enough of relief that the last few days melted away and ceased to matter, but then he had just stepped in the door. Giles put his things down, leaving putting them away for later, and went to the kitchen to make tea. Just putting the kettle on helped to clear his mind, the simple ritual clearing away the mental clutter and allowing him to think while he waited for the water to boil.

Xander had been through so much in the past week, and thinking about it in that light only made his reluctance easier to understand. Though it felt to Giles as if months had passed, Xander had only had a week to come to grips with several life-changing things. Was it any wonder he treaded carefully, especially after the way his and Anya's relationship had ended?

Beyond that, there was always the chance that what had been between them had been a way of coping with so many huge things. There was, Giles had to admit despite how tight it made his chest, a chance that Xander might not want to see where things between them were heading, might not want to continue. And, if that was the case, Giles promised himself that he would let it be, that he would not let this change friendship between Xander and himself.

That resolution helped a little, but it only barely dimmed Giles' wish that Xander had come inside with him.

**\--Xander--**

He was just going to take Willow's camping gear back to her. That was all. Xander repeated that to himself over and over as he waited for the stoplight near Giles' apartment to turn green. He wasn't going to tell her about any of this, not until he knew what there was to tell and how he felt about it.

He wasn't going to say a word. Xander nodded to himself, still staring up at the red light. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, his kneeing bobbing up and down. How long did this damn light take? When it finally turned, Xander probably hit the gas a little too hard.

_Calm down,_ he told himself. _You are not in a hurry to get anywhere, and even when you do get there, you're not going to say anything. You're going to give her back her camping stuff._ He started practicing in his head. It never hurt, he knew, to have your nonchalance planned.

Tara opened the door when Xander knocked. She smiled that shy smile at him and Xander groaned inside. There was no way he was going to keep himself from spilling everything if she kept looking at him.

"Hey! Is Willow here? I mean, not that I'm not happy to see you, but I was kinda hoping she'd be around. Uh, just so I could give her her stuff." Xander held up the sleeping bag and things that she'd leant them. "I mean, she does live here, so--since I'm just here to give her this--I could just, you know, drop it and leave, but that would be rude. Right? I mean, just leaving her stuff and not at least saying hi?" Xander walked into the dorm room. It wasn't that he didn't notice Tara's amused expression, it was just that he had way too many thoughts circling his mind to comment.

"She's at the library, but she should be back in five or ten minutes," Tara said. There was a silence and Xander was afraid to open his mouth to fill it, afraid of what might rush out and land, flopping, at Tara's feet. Okay, so thoughts didn't normally flop, but Xander had the image of a huge fish in his head from somewhere and couldn't stop seeing it that way. "So, you're back from camping." It wasn't really a question and her tone didn't imply it was. Obviously he was back from camping, since he was . . . back from camping and all.

"Yes." That came out way squeakier than Xander had intended.

"Is everything okay?" Tara's big eyes went wider now, and Xander knew he hadn't played that right. He failed at practiced nonchalance.

"Umm . . ." he swallowed and felt it all the way down to his toes. "Yeah?"

Tara's eyebrows rose, but she ducked her head, so they kinda stayed in the same place. "Okay." She didn't push. Willow would have pushed. Well, okay, maybe not pushed, so much as looked at him, but it amounted to the same thing in Xander's book.

"Oh God, I've ruined everything." Xander slumped onto the bed and stared miserably at his shoes. Silence followed his admission, long enough that Xander thought Tara wasn't going to say anything. He almost opened his mouth, ready to ask her if he could just wait here for Willow.

"What happened?" Tara sat down on the bed next to him and Xander glanced up to see her looking determined.

"Anya hates me. Giles probably hates me, too. Even though he's trying to be nice." Xander sighed, shrugging. "All three of us going was a really stupid idea. Giles tried to tell me, but I just had to have him." Xander realized what he'd said and his head flew up. "No, not like _have him_ have him, I just meant . . . Yeah, I know. I need to learn to stop while I'm only a few miles behind." Xander hung his head again, sighing.

"I'm sure it's not as bad as you think. What happened, exactly?"

Xander shrugged. "Anya caught me kissing Giles." Why didn't just saying that make him more upset? Two weeks ago he would have laughed at the idea, but now . . . _And, apparently, before. Damn. I left Anya for Giles. Not this time, this time I screwed up, but another time._ Xander knew his mouth was hanging open. He heard Tara say his name, but he felt dumbstruck. It was finally creeping in. Hours on the road, trying not to think about anything at all, and now it was getting in that he'd left her for Giles and she'd made a wish and . . . He should be furious, but instead he just kept seeing himself holding a black candle and watching Amy dip Cordelia's necklace into a smoking pot of . . . something. Seeing all the women in Sunnydale with hatchets and knives and really crazy looks in their eyes.

The click of the door opening finally got through to him. The door opening meant Willow and, while he knew Tara was trying to help, and loved her for it, it was his best friend that he wanted to see, to talk to.

Willow stopped just inside the door, a wide smile on her face. Her arms were full of books, but she shut the door with her foot, setting her books down and nearly vibrating with excitement. "You're back!" Then she seemed to realize he wasn't supposed to be back until later. Her smile faded around the edges, her eyes widening. "What happened?"

Xander made up his mind. He wasn't going to tell her. He was going to tell her that he was just dropping off the camping equipment. Then he was going to flee, because Willow had always seen right through him. He stood up, pointing to the camping equipment. "Anya caught me kissing Giles." Xander actually blinked. Even he was surprised.

Willow's eyes went even wider. "Oh, Xander," she said, her voice filled with sympathy.

Xander gave up. He sat on the bed and then slumped back. Lying there, staring at the ceiling, he told them everything. Tara stayed instead of running to get stuff, but Xander didn't mind. He'd have been surprised if Willow hadn't told Tara. Willow wasn't all that good at keeping things from people, after all, and Tara was her girlfriend.

It was kind of nice. Getting it all out. He told them about the fight with Anya at the motel, even about the wish. Willow gasped, rearing up from her place beside him with an expression that said someone was getting glared at. "She wished what? How could she do that? I mean . . . What was . . ." Willow shook her head, her mouth still moving even though no words were coming out. She seemed to catch Xander's expression then. "Aren't you mad at her?"

Xander shrugged, trying to explain. "I don't know. I guess. It's just . . . I keep thinking about that spell I did with Amy."

Willow's face cleared then, her mouth scrunching up all onto one side of her face. That was an expression Xander hadn't seen in a while, and despite everything it made him feel a little better. Willow looked up to Tara then, smiling. "He once cast a love spell on all the women of Sunnydale."

Tara's eyes went round and she looked at Xander in surprise. He nodded. "It wasn't supposed to go that way, but . . . Spells." He waved his hand and shrugged.

"But . . ." Tara shook her head, looking between Willow and Xander. "Aren't you guys worried? I mean . . . What else might have changed? Everything could be different and we wouldn't even know it."

Almost as one, the three of them looked around the room, as if something unexpected might jump out of the shadows.

"Seems quiet," Willow said.

"Yup. If it's different at least it's not eating us." Xander smiled as Willow nodded firmly.

"There's not much we can really do," Willow told Tara, moving to sit on the other side of Xander, next to Tara. "But, we'll try to find Anya's vengeance buddy and straighten this all out. It's like the thing with Jonathan," she said. "We found out that he'd changed everything and we put it back. The thing is, the only way to really undo a wish like this is to take out a demon's power center."

"Hence, Anya," Xander said, hearing her voice in his head again. _Being on the outside of everything, with everything being so . . . human._ Even talking about Anya made his chest tight. Talking led to thinking and thinking led to remembering, which wouldn't have been bad except so many of the memories were good. They'd had fun, in with the insanity. He had cared about her. Still did. He wanted her to be happy.

Tara still didn't look convinced. Willow slid an arm around Tara to comfort her and it reminded him of Giles, of the night that he'd found out about the half-demon stuff. Giles had reached out, laid his hand on Xander's shoulders and . . . Xander had felt better. Not great, but just a little bit better. He could still remember the way it had felt. The weight of Giles' hand, the warmth of his fingers as they closed around Xander's shoulder.

"Wow," Xander said. The silence that greeted his revelation snapped Xander out of his thoughts. Willow and Tara were looking at him with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, Xander, please tell me you're not indulging in some sordid lesbian fantasy?" Willow said, her face doing that 'creeped out' thing.

Xander grinned. "Nope, no girls in my head at all."

"That's a first," Willow replied and then her eyes narrowed in an attempt at suspicion. "Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Giles has been guest starring in there for years." She grinned, poking Xander with her toe.

Xander opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. "That's none of your business. I gotta go."

"Go where?" Willow asked, pouting a little. "I figured you were hiding out here until Anya finished getting her stuff, and we could watch foreign movies and eat ice cream."

"Oh," Xander said, blinking. "I didn't think about that." Then another thought hit. "I don't think Anya did either." Then he shook his head, looking back to Willow with a slightly nervous smile. "I made up my mind," he said.

She grinned, even bounced a little. "So? You're going to Giles'?"

"Yeah. Oh, God, no." Xander whimpered a little. "Okay, my mind's made up, but I'm still pretty nervous. I mean, I yelled at him last night, and I barely talked to him all day in the car, and I know he's got to be mad." Xander thumped his head back against the bed.

"Better to apologize sooner, rather than later," Tara said. She wore a serious expression, but Xander thought she was trying not to laugh.

"It is?" Both Willow and Tara nodded, wearing almost making expression. Yup, definitely trying not to smile, at least. "Right. Okay. Going to Giles'." He didn't move. Willow and Tara had to push him off the bed before he actually got to his feet, and that only worked because the dorm floors were _hard_.

"Okay, okay," he said, holding up his hands. "But if he tells me to get stuffed, I'm coming right back."

Willow snorted. "Xander, if Giles tells you to 'get stuffed', I'll . . . Okay, I don't know what, but it would be something really unlikely."

Xander took a deep breath, and left with a wave to the girls. If he was going to do this . . . He _was_ going to do this. He kept telling himself, over and over, that it should be easy, but . . . It wasn't. He'd screwed up every relationship he'd ever had, and while that was basically a grand total of 'two' it wasn't a good sign. Maybe Giles didn't even want . . . anything with him. Okay, so the kissing probably meant that Giles wasn't repulsed by him or anything, but Giles kept stopping things.

_Because you were with Anya,_ Xander's inner voice chimed in. _The same reason you_ should _have stopped things_. But Xander didn't know that that was the reason. Not for sure. By the time he stood in front of Giles' door with his hand raised to knock, he'd come up with ten other excellent reasons. He knocked despite the fact that his knees felt as if they were going to fold out from under him.

Giles wasn't wearing his glasses when he answered. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, too, and Xander had to pull his eyes away from Giles' arms. Of course, standing there, looking Giles in the eye, was even worse on his nerves. He'd planned out his speech on the way over, but it must have been cowering at the back of his mind, because he couldn't think of a single word of it. He was quiet long enough for Giles' expression to get worried.

"Xander? Is everything all rig--"

Giles never got to finish the sentence. Xander dove forward and kissed him. Hard. A little too hard, maybe, because Giles stumbled backwards, but his arms also slid around Xander. _Could just be to keep himself from falling over._ Later, he knew, they'd talk. They'd have to, but if he could just keep Giles' mouth busy a little longer, they might not have to do it tonight.

Then Giles was kissing him back. Even harder. Xander bumped the edge of the door, which was probably a good thing, since it closed it. Then he was pressed against it, Giles' body pressing along his own. He could feel the other man's warmth, feel the weight of him. Xander moaned into the kiss, not really sure when his hands had moved up into Giles' hair, but not really caring, either.


End file.
